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 ISABELLA ORSINI.
 
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 ISABELLA ORSINI: 
 
 lustnriml Uunrl nf Up f iftatlj <fMttrr[. 
 
 F. D. GUERRAZZI, 
 
 <3utljor of " Beatrice Ccnti." 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN, 
 BY 
 
 LUIGI MONTI, A.M., 
 
 Instructor in Italian at ^arfaarU Sni&crsita, CamftrfBge. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 RUDD & CARLETON, 310 BROADWAY. 
 MDCCCLIX. 

 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 
 EUDD A CARLETON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
 R. CRAIGHEAD, 
 inier, Stcreotyper, and Electrotyper, 
 
 Carton Builtiinjj, 
 
 81 , 83, and 85 CtMrt Street.
 
 TO 
 
 CORNELIUS C. FELTON, LL.D., 
 
 ELIOT PROFESSOR OF GREEK LITERATURE 
 AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY, 
 
 As a mark of gratitude for his kind advice, 
 urbanity, and friendship, 
 
 THIS TRANSLATION is DEDICATED.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 Guilt, 15 
 
 CHAPTER TL 
 Love, 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati, 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Homicide, 84 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 Pasquino, ' . . . . 106 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 The Son, 147 
 
 CHAPTER YH. 
 Jealousy, 172 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 The Confession, 206 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Death, 253
 
 LETTER. 
 
 GENOA, June 3Oth, 1858. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 IN reply to your letter dated May 2yth, I 
 send you a portrait of ISABELLA ORSINI. You 
 could not have been successful in obtaining it 
 from any one except myself, for notwithstanding 
 the many researches made for it, I procured it 
 only after great difficulty. I went to the very 
 palace wherein she was murdered by the wretch- 
 ed hands of Orsini ; I was even on the point of 
 having the coffin wherein she was buried opened, 
 but several reasons deterred me, the principal 
 one being that the body, after so long a time, 
 must have become ashes. At last, while I was 
 in prison, the Marquis * * * died : his heirs 
 (three Marquises) immediately sold books, pic-
 
 xii LETTER. 
 
 tures, furniture, and every family relic. Among 
 these, a friend of mine found a bronze medal 
 of ISABELLA ORSINI, a copy of which I send you. 
 On the reverse of the medal is a bush with flow- 
 ers, fruits, and the inscription FLORES. SIMUL. ET. 
 FRUCTUS. 
 
 A photograph of it did not succeed well. I 
 would willingly send you the medal itself, but 
 fear that it may be lost, and thus the only por- 
 trait of that unfortunate woman be for ever de- 
 stroyed, deters me. I have, however, caused a 
 drawing to be executed by one of our best artists, 
 CHEVALIER FRASCHERI, Professor of Painting in 
 the Ligurian Academy, which I think will please 
 you. 
 
 Yours very affectionately, 
 
 F. D. GUERRAZZI. 
 
 To Sic. LUIGI MONTI, 
 Boston, Mass.
 
 ISABELLA ORSINI.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GUILT. 
 
 But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though 
 he heard them not 
 
 So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself and said unto them : 
 1 He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.' * * * * 
 
 And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee ; go and sin no more. 
 
 ST. JOHN viii. 
 
 "AvE MARIA! O being, at whose sight the Eternal 
 One was persuaded to offer himself as an expiatory vic- 
 tim to the irrevocable justice of his laws, for the race of 
 which thou wast born ; O Virgin ! into whose bosom 
 God penetrated like the purest ray into clear water ; O 
 Mother ! who in thy bosom, better than in the Holy 
 Ark, barest Divinity, have mercy upon me. 
 
 " Ave Maria 1 Queen of Heaven : God has surrounded 
 thee with the most loving angels that he ever created 
 in the exultation of his glory. God has chosen from the 
 fields of the firmament the most brilliant stars to form 
 thy crown ; beneath thy feet has he placed the sun and 
 moon. Christ reposes on thy arm as on a high throne 
 to govern creation. Thou that canst do all things, have 
 mercy upon me. 
 
 " Ave Maria ! God shed his own blood in observance 
 of the decrees of his law. Thou conquerest even those 
 decrees, for when loving appeals failed, thou didst 
 remove the eternal from thy holy arm, and didst kneel
 
 16 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 before him, to win by thy prayers what thy request had 
 failed to obtain ; for what mail or God could see his 
 mother prostrate at his feet and disdainfully spurn her ? 
 God is above, not against nature. Mercy then, oh, have 
 mercy upon me ! 
 
 " Ave Maria ! If thou but turncst one look of kind- 
 ness upon the soul of the parricide, lo, it will become as 
 pure as that of the babe newly baptized. Thou that 
 hast a tear for every sorrow, thou that from misery hast 
 learned to relieve the unfortunate, thou that bringest a 
 balm for every wound, good counsel for every fallen one, 
 help for every fault, protection from every crime, wilt 
 thou be deaf to me alone ? 
 
 "Does the contemplation of thy heavenly glories 
 dissuade thee from casting down thine eyes upon this 
 vale of tears ? Have the praises of the angels caused the 
 groans of thy servants to become wearisome ? Mother 
 of thy Creator, hast thou forgotten thy earthly origin ? 
 Is it hi heaven above, as in this world below ! 
 
 " All, unhappy me ! Most miserable ! My mind reels 
 and staggers like a drunken man. I am beyond measure 
 inebriated with grief, and my rash words flow from my 
 mouth like the wind of a tempest. 
 
 " Holy Mary, pardon ! Thou knowest that even when 
 a child, leaving my warm bed to bathe my feet in the 
 dewy grass, I went to gather the flowers that drank the 
 first rays of the morning sun for thee. Thou knowest 
 that I have watched like a vestal, so that the light con- 
 secrated to thee on the domestic altar should not be 
 extinguished ; and if I committed any act not worthy of 
 thy holy sight, I first veiled thy face, and afterwards 
 implored thy pardon. In thee alone I trust.
 
 . Guilt. 17 
 
 " My blood is inflamed, and the very marrow of my 
 bones consumed by a love 
 
 " Who called it love ? Did I say love ? Ah, in pity 
 let no one know it let no one hear it let my. ears not 
 listen to the words from my own lips ! Madness ! Ah, 
 what matter if I have hell in my heart ? Yes, an infa- 
 mous love burns within me ; a love to make even the 
 angels weep. O holy Mary, do not look into my soul ! 
 All the saints in Paradise, even thou, immaculate Virgin ! 
 would'st blush for shame to behold my secret heart. 
 
 " And yet this passion burns so secretly, that no one, 
 looking on my pale face, could say : ' Behold an adul- 
 teress ! ' Who among the living can tell whether guilt 
 or grief consumes me? As a sepulchral lamp burns, 
 lighting up human skeletons without diffusing its rays 
 abroad, so my love lives within my soul, shining upon 
 the miserable relics of my contaminated virtue. 
 
 " But in this fierce battle every vital spark has failed. 
 Already the hour approaches when the abyss will open, 
 within which will fall the woman's shame, the husband's 
 honor, family pride, the mother's love, all hi short, and 
 the soul's safety with them ! 
 
 "The soul's safety! Everlasting perdition! And 
 should I, hopeless of overcoming the current, allow my- 
 self to be subdued by the waters ? Should I, with a soul 
 borne down by grief, dare to fly from the sad prison of 
 the body ? Should I, unsummoned, give wings to my 
 life, and take shelter under the cloak of God's pardon ? 
 "Will the arms of God open to receive or to repulse me ? 
 And am I not indeed wholly wicked ? O God, dost thou 
 not penetrate into our hearts, and see how sin has cor- 
 roded them? In this bitter contest I defend that part
 
 i8 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 of me which will turn to dust ; the other, which has im- 
 mortal life, is for ever lost. Whether I remain or fly, 
 whether I give up or resist, Isabella, thou art lost lost 
 for ever ! 
 
 " Where or who is he that has decreed this most wicked 
 law ? If I cannot break, I can at least rail at this iron 
 decree. Have I not struggled, and struggled inces- 
 santly ? Where is my guilt, if I cannot overcome ? In 
 what have I sinned, if a serpent while I slept has crept 
 into my heart, has made there its nest, and has there 
 revealed itself more fearful than the Medusa's head? 
 How have I sinned, if my strength is insufficient to bear 
 this cross ? The fallen should not be laughed at nor con- 
 demned, but aided. Well, since the guilt contemplated 
 is equal to the guilt consummated, and both incur the 
 same punishment, let me descend wholly into the abyss 
 of crime and die." 
 
 These and other words were partly spoken, partly 
 murmured by a young and handsome woman, before a 
 painting of the Madonna, the divine work of Fra An- 
 gelico. And this face, symbol of celestial modesty and 
 chaste thoughts, seemed as if frightened at such prayers, 
 for, less even by the words than by the manner in which 
 they were spoken, they seemed almost impious. The 
 woman was not in a reverential posture, but standing 
 erect, with haughty aspect, her eyes sparkling, her breast 
 heaving, her lips trembling, her nostrils dilated, her hands 
 clenched, her feet restless in short, a lioness rather than 
 a woman, much less a suppliant woman. 
 
 Was she right ? 
 
 The Greeks, investigating diligently the nature of our 
 hearts, discovered vice to be so inherent in human
 
 Guilt 19 
 
 that neither strength united with will, nor laws, nor cus- 
 toms, nor religion itself, could overcome it ; but with 
 that wonderful talent which the heavens granted to them 
 alone, they rendered vice amiable, and made it contribute 
 to the good of the republic. Instead of awaiting what 
 they could not prevent, they went to meet it, like 
 Mithridates, who, having to drink poison, took away its 
 power of doing him hai'in, by habituating himself to its 
 use. They dared even more ; they made the gods the 
 accomplices of the errors of men ; powerless to raise 
 their dust to heaven, they brought heaven down to the 
 dust, and the guilty became objects, not of hate but of 
 compassion, for they had yielded to the omnipotent power 
 of fate, to which even Jupiter was subject fate which 
 guides the willing and drags the reluctant. 
 
 This idea, extended to every action, they applied espe- 
 cially to the affairs of love. Anacreon, whose hair, so 
 often crowned with leaves of the merry ivy and vine, 
 was becoming grey, was seated one gloomy winter's 
 night alone before the fire. Boreas raged over land and 
 sea, and a hurricane of hailstones rattled upon the poet's 
 house. He remembers no more the rays which the sun 
 of spring sheds upon the flowers and the tresses of lovely 
 women ; nor the soft grass scarcely pressed by the flying 
 feet of the dancers, nor the breezes pregnant with life, 
 that seem to murmur in his ears, "love love;" his 
 thoughts turn upon the transitory nature of our lives 
 here below ; he sees life rolling on more swiftly than 
 the wheels of the conqueror's car hi the Olympic gamc-s, 
 our days dissolving more speedily than the shadow on 
 the wall; the roses of his fancy withered at the thought 
 of death. Suddenly a knock is heard at the poet's door,
 
 2O Isabella Orsini. 
 
 accompanied by a tearful voice. How can the poet help 
 feeling pity, since pity is one of the most harmonious 
 chords of his heavenly lyre ? Anacreon opens the door, 
 and a child appears, wet with the rain and pale with sor- 
 row : poor child ! his fine hair hangs dripping round his 
 cheeks, his lips are livid, his limbs stiffened with cold. 
 "What evil fortune, my pretty child, forces thee to 
 wander on such a night, sacred to the infernal deities ? " 
 And without awaiting a reply, he presses the ice from 
 his hair, removes his dress, dries him, and revives him by 
 the heat of the fire ; nor is that enough, he puts the 
 child's hands into his own breast to warm them gently 
 with the mild heat of his own blood. When the color 
 returns to his lip, and the tremulous light to his eyes, 
 the child smilingly says : " Now let me see if the rain 
 has spoiled my bow ; " and fitting an arrow, he draws 
 the string. Anacreon is suddenly wounded, before he 
 can perceive that Love, mocking, has left his house. It 
 was the vengeance of Apollo which caused Myrrlia to 
 burn with unholy passion for Cinyras ; of Venus, which 
 caused the love of Pasiphae for the bull ; of Phaedra for 
 Hippolytus ; and the will of Juno and Minerva which 
 caused the cruel affection of Medea for Jason. Few or 
 no crimes were committed which were not attributed to 
 the influence of some god ; and in this way, tragedians, 
 availing themselves of the universal faith in fate, repre- 
 sented upon the stage the horrible deeds that under dif- 
 ferent aspects would not have been tolerated. And 
 there certainly lives, or rather there sometimes soem-; to 
 live in us, something more powerful than ourselves; nor 
 does our belief, generally so different from the doc-trine 
 of the ancients, entirely oppose it. Do we not believe
 
 Guilt. 21 
 
 that our first mother was tempted by the serpent ? And 
 since that time, the ears of women have been readily 
 open to the flatteries of the tempter. Perhaps the 
 tempter does not stand without, but within the woman, 
 and dwells in her pure blood, in the fine texture of her 
 veins, in the pores of her delicate skin, in her imagina- 
 tive brain, and in her more imaginative heart : and when 
 thus, the tempter appears strongest and most inevitable. 
 But do women alone yield to the persuasions of a devil, 
 that comes tempting them, now with hate, now with 
 pleasure, now with love, now with the abundance of 
 wealth, and (for we will not stop to enumerate them all) 
 with as many passions as are powerful to stir the human 
 heart? Alas! with few is there fortitude enough to 
 withstand pleasure and gold, the most cruel of all the 
 tyrants of our souls. Renowned heroes of ancient and 
 modern history, men august and venerated, while life 
 lasted, either resisted such passions, or too often yielded 
 to them ; and if repentance was raised to the dignity of 
 a sacrament among us, it seems the most evident proof 
 that God himself never expected that we should keep 
 ourselves innocent ; no, he did not expect it, since he 
 commanded Simon Peter to forgive, not only seven 
 times, but even seventy times seven. Poor Isabella! 
 Let him who is without sin first cast a stone at her. . . . 
 
 Was she wrong ? 
 
 The first draught never intoxicates, and whoever 
 wishes, can put down the cnp and say, " Enough ! " 
 For that Love, hardly born, shaking his head and his 
 great bow, enthrones himself king of the spirit, and cries, 
 " I will it, and I wish to reign alone," so sing the fan- 
 ciful poets, but this is not the truth. Love every mo-
 
 22 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 ment makes his wings of sweet thoughts and ardent de- 
 sires, and his darts grow harder, as the heart at which 
 lie aims becomes softened. Delia did not become blind 
 merely by once looking at the sun ; and whosoever 
 wishes to escape the Sirens must imitate the example of 
 Ulysses, and stop his ears with wax. We trust too 
 much or too little to ourselves. When the flame of a 
 glance, or the allurement of a voice fascinates us, and 
 Providence with an innate conscience admonishes us, we 
 take no heed of the warning, but say : " Not even this 
 love shall trespass ; when it would go beyond bounds, 
 we shall be sufficient for the defence." When after- 
 wards we feel it conquering, we defer the remedy from 
 day to day; at last, overcome, we accuse the destiny 
 which we have woven with our own hands. Thus, hav- 
 ing the power, the will fails, and having the will, the 
 power fails. We are caught in our own nets. Among 
 the laws of fate, man can be subjected to those that are 
 outside ; the others that are within him have no power ; 
 the body can be subdued, not the soul. And if God 
 gives us a mind able to use its power even against His 
 immortal throne, why or how can we accuse Him, if, 
 like cowards, we throw down the shield at the beginning 
 of the battle, or if we refuse to use the sword which He 
 has put into our hands ? Querulous and unjust atoms, 
 we wish the Creator to break through the eternal order 
 of things, and to bend down every moment from the 
 heavens to repair our faults, and to quiet the tempest of 
 the heart which we have excited. He, the Creator, who 
 whirls through infinite space the fragments of shattered 
 orbs, and wakes in its dreadful sublimity the tempest of 
 the ocean ! Even guilt knows a kind of dignity ; let us
 
 Guilt. 23 
 
 dare to possess it. Lucifer, exiled from celestial thrones, 
 accused no one, nor did he reproach himself with his 
 want of success ; and Lucifer, in his dark grandeur, ap- 
 pears such, that although we cannot wish him a better 
 destiny, yet we cannot abstain from cursing the ill- 
 omened moment in which he drew down upon his head 
 the wrath of God. But we are far inferior either in 
 good or evil to angelic natures. In order to persuade 
 ourselves that we are worth something, we presume to 
 do ourselves the honor of believing that Satan has 
 tempted us. If Satan could turn upon us his fiery 
 glances, he would not tempt, but laugh at us. Can 
 there be a worse tempter than our own evil inclinations, 
 and the full power of our will in nursing and fostering 
 them ? I certainly do not wish to take away or to di- 
 minish the compassion of men, or the mercy of God for 
 the poor soul of Isabella, but only to prove that the 
 miserable death to which she was brought was the just 
 recompense of her merits, or rather her demerits. 
 
 While Isabella was uttering the strange prayer which 
 is partly given above, a knight of haughty aspect and 
 bold presence advanced from the other end of the hall, 
 and stood listening to her words ; then softly approach- 
 ing, said, " Isabella ! " 
 
 The woman started at this sudden* voice, her face grew 
 paler, her lips moved without making a sound, her heavy 
 eyelids fell, whilst the swelling of the veins produced a 
 dark shade around her eyes. She would have fallen had 
 not the knight hastened to support her. After a short 
 silence he spoke : 
 
 " Isabella, you have something on your heart which 
 you desire to conceal from me. Why is this, Isabella ?
 
 24 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Am I then so poor a friend that you do not deem me 
 worthy to share your innocent secrets ? Or do you be- 
 lieve me so eager for my own happiness, that I know not 
 how to prefer, although with intense anguish, your peace 
 and wishes to my own ? Speak : I am ready to do any- 
 thing for your love give me but a word. Ah, misera- 
 ble me ! What need is there, Isabella, for you to speak ? 
 I have heard too much. Do you not believe in my 
 courage ? Let me prove it to you. You pray for my 
 death, and I can, yes, I will unite my petition to yours ; 
 I will recall to my lips the sweetest prayer that my 
 mother ever taught me. Isabella, kneel ; I, you see, am 
 kneeling." 
 
 And she, hardly knowing what she did, knelt ; and 
 both prayed. 
 
 These were no pure and peaceful prayers, such as 
 ascend to Heaven like incense from innocent hearts, 
 which the angels love to bear on their shining wings to 
 the throne of the Eternal, received by God as celestial 
 guests, and consoled, as if they were the troubled sons 
 of His love. These prayers mounted from panting 
 bosoms, disconnected and hurried, like delirious thrills 
 of pleasure ; they were wafted through the air, thick, 
 like clouds arising from dark earthly sources ; nor did 
 they reach the threshold of Heaven, but fell repulsed, 
 like the smoke from the offering of the first murderer, 
 to increase the passion of the guilty ones. 
 
 It was right ; for these prayers did not come sin- 
 cerely from the heart, for he who offered them feared 
 lest they might be heard, and scarcely were they spoken, 
 ere he would have wished to revoke them. Oh, mortal 
 mind, how unstable in the desire of good ! Then the
 
 Guilt. 25 
 
 glowing cheeks touched, the convulsed hands sought 
 and clasped each other, and the prayers ended in oaths 
 to love each other for ever, in spite of sacred bonds, of 
 family honor, of death, or hell. Indeed, so regardless 
 of them were they, that they caUed as a witness to the 
 wicked vow, our divine Mother, to whom they had 
 intended to pray for safety ; and the Mother of Mercy 
 did not turn aside her face, convinced that if their 
 prayers were then false, in the day of repentance she 
 must listen, when they would be only too sincere. 
 
 Meanwhile justice registered the guilt in that book, 
 where nothing is cancelled, except by blood. 
 
 2
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 E bevea da' suoi lumi 
 
 Un' estranea dolcezza, 
 
 Che lasciava nel fine 
 
 Un non so che di amaro. 
 
 Sospirava sovente, e non sapeva 
 
 La cagion dei sospiri. 
 
 Cosi fui prirna amante, che intendessi 
 
 Che cosa fosse amore : 
 
 Ben me ne accorsi alflu 
 
 TABSO. 
 
 And from his eyes I drank 
 
 A sweetness strange and new, 
 But In the end, alas I I found 
 
 That draught was bitter too. 
 1 sighed, and knew not why; 
 
 I loved, and knew it not : 
 JJut ah 1 too soon that knowledge came 
 
 By sad experience brought. . . . 
 
 SIR ANTON FRANCESCO TORELLI was of one of the 
 best families of the territory of Fermo ; endowed with 
 the gifts of fortune, honored by his relations, respected 
 by strangers, blessed with a lovely wife, and a son, in 
 whom centred all the hopes of his declining years. 
 
 Happy would he have been if he had believed what is 
 only too true, that the best instruction that children can 
 receive, must be derived from the good examples of
 
 Love. 27 
 
 their parents : happy, if he had never sent from his 
 home, his dear son Lelio ! for his last steps towards the 
 tomb would not have been embittered by sorrow. But, 
 complying with the fashion of the times, he desired his 
 son to be skilled in chivalric exercises, and the father's 
 heart exulted in the hope that the noble ladies of Fermo 
 might salute his son as the most accomplished and 
 courteous nobleman of the land. With this idea, Sir 
 Anton Francesco, having himself served a long time 
 with the Cardinal dei Medici in Rome, thought he might 
 easily instal his son Lelio as page in the court of the 
 Grand Duke Cosimo. But Cosimo having died prema- 
 turely, worn out by the excessive love of pleasure, Lelio, 
 a youth of elegant manners and fine figure, so pleased 
 the Lady Isabella, Duchess of Bracciano, and daughter 
 of Cosimo, that she obtained the handsome page for her 
 own service. 
 
 In those times, noblemen serving at court, were 
 required to learn the skilful management of all knightly 
 weapons, to fight with the sword and dagger, and even 
 to defend themselves unarmed from unexpected attacks 
 with the stiletto or poniard ; and there were some 
 excellent books written about this art, which served also 
 as a model to other nations. Nor did they neglect the 
 practice of fire-arms, although that was not esteemed so 
 noble an accomplishment ; the management of horses 
 they deemed indispensable, either in racing, tilting, or 
 (more difficult still) curvetting before the ladies, then 
 nice judges of such arts. Next in importance came 
 dexterity in field-sports, among which stood foremost 
 that of hawking, now fallen into disuse, or only kept up 
 in Holland. To tell the truth, the knights made a show
 
 28 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 of admiring belles-lettres, but not the severer produc- 
 tions of the pen, nor those which spring new and vivid 
 from the imagination warmed by the heart, but rather 
 those arranged according to accepted formulas, and 
 mutilated in usum Delphini ; which composed the 
 delights of the courtiers whom experience or fear had 
 taught to touch carefully such dangerous matters. Jus- 
 tice, however, forbids us to let pass unnoticed some 
 writer, who, kindled by the last panting breath of the 
 Republic, dared to write, if not powerfully, at least con- 
 scientiously ; but the last breath soon expires, the writer 
 became silent, and boAved his head to fate. There were 
 others, who wrote the truth, but dared not publish it, 
 as if they had wished to constitute their remote descend- 
 ants the heirs of their revenge ; and, as it seems, the 
 descendants opened the will, but reading what the inhe- 
 ritance was, thought best to refuse the legacy. The 
 arts and sciences, however, were better received, parti- 
 cularly chemistry, for the purpose of making poisons, of 
 which the men of those times, and the Medicis in parti- 
 cular, became very skilful manufacturers, and by what 
 we read about it, we see that modem researches fall far 
 short of ancient toxicology. Michael Angelo, immortal 
 monument of human dignity, and eternal witness to the 
 truth, that man was created in the image of God, when 
 he no longer had a country, consecrated himself entirely 
 to Heaven, and was replaced by Benvenuto Cellini, a 
 man of great genius, but wholly without heart, who 
 wasted his talents in working girdles, jewels, vases, 
 plates, and similar superfluities of luxury ; so that when 
 he undertook the statue of Perseus, he was no longer 
 able to raise to lofty conceptions his mind so long accus-
 
 Love. 29 
 
 tomed to female ornaments, whereupon Alfonzo del Pazzi 
 stung him with the bitter epigram : 
 
 " With the trunk of a giant, the limbs of a lady, 
 I rate your fair Perseus at one maravedi."* 
 
 But to return to Lelio Torelli; he had succeeded 
 wonderfully in all the exercises that require strength 
 and suppleness of limb. As to that discipline which is 
 requisite to enlighten the intellect, either he had not 
 given his mind to it, or had not been able to attain it ; 
 nor did he take pleasure in music, singing, or dancing ; 
 his glances rested upon a group of pretty women with 
 less interest than upon a bunch of roses, and infinitely 
 less than that with which he hunted the wild boar over 
 hill and dale. No one more ready than he to leap with 
 one bound into the saddle ; no one more unerring in 
 hurling a dart or firing a shot ; and not to describe too 
 minutely, he not only easily surpassed in prowess all his 
 companions, but scarcely could there be found among 
 the elder knights one to excel him. 
 
 Therefore he was more eager for affrays and disputes 
 than was becoming in a noble youth, thus exhibiting a 
 fierceness of disposition ; and whenever by superior 
 force or adroitness he overcame his opponent, deaf to 
 the gentle tones of pity or pardon, he was not easily 
 restrained from striking, until weariness or the interpo- 
 sition of bystanders arrested his hand. Then rancor 
 took possession of him ; and woe if he should one day 
 
 * Corpo gigante, e gambe di fanciulla 
 Ha il nuovo Perseo : sicche tutto insieme 
 Ti puo bello parer, ma non val nulla.
 
 30 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 have a chance to give vent to the vengeance treasured 
 up in the depths of his soul ! His enemies would cer- 
 tainly have done well to put, as the saying goes, the 
 extreme unction in their pockets. As to the rest of his 
 character, he was as strong hi love as in hate, and 
 always foremost hi exposing himself to danger, even 
 desiring to meet it alone, so that his friends had to 
 restrain him. This he did neither to win praise nor to 
 excite gratitude, for he despised and even spurned 
 both, but through a natural generosity and even a 
 certain feeling of superiority over his companions, and 
 this superiority it was easier for them to envy than 
 to counteract. Feared rather than loved, respected 
 rather than followed, he seemed most worthy of 
 authority. 
 
 It one day happened that Lady Isabella having sum- 
 moned huii in great haste, he had scarcely time" to free 
 himself from the hands of his antagonist, and appeared 
 before her stained with blood. The noble lady seeing 
 him in this condition, exclaimed in an angry voice : 
 " Go from my sight, you make me shudder !" 
 From that day, Lelio seemed no longer the same ; 
 instead of wreaking vengeance on any one who taunted 
 him, as he would once have done, he now bit his lips, 
 colored to the very roots of his hair, checked himself by 
 violent effort, and met the sarcasm with a pleasant 
 smile. He was more orderly hi his person than before, 
 and paid more attention to his luxuriant fair hair, and 
 the neatness of his dress ; but his once florid complexion 
 had now become pale, his air pensive, his blue eyes 
 sunken. And this was not all. Lelio would often 
 stand apart from his companions, sad and silent, looking
 
 Love. 31 
 
 either at a flower, a falcon circling through the air, or a 
 little cloud that undulated through the blue ether as if 
 the loving zephyrs were contending for it ; but he was 
 oftenest to be seen in the evening, upon the brow of a 
 hill, with both hands clasped upon his knees, gazing 
 intently at the setting sun, and the gold, purple, and 
 rich colors of mother-of-pearl, and the rainbow hues 
 with which the glorious Father of Life surrounds his 
 temporary tomb. He scarcely heeded his Spanish 
 jennet, which strove in vain to rouse his inert master 
 with his neighs ; vainly, too, did his greyhound run 
 before him, crouch for an instant, turn back to him, fly 
 on again, bark, gaze, lick his hands and leap upon him ; 
 Lelio by voice and signs would gently endeavor to 
 quiet him, so that the poor annual, seeing all his at- 
 tempts useless, with drooping ears and tail would 
 quietly crouch at his master's feet ; nor did his weapons 
 meet with any better fate, although sometimes he would 
 seize them as if moved by a sudden impulse, and would 
 exercise so violently with them as to bathe himself 
 in perspiration, and exhaust his strength for several 
 days. 
 
 Lady Isabella possessed a little volume of Petrarch's 
 poems which always accompanied her in her solitary 
 walks ; this book disappeared, for Lelio had appro- 
 priated it to himself and was never tired of reading 
 in it. 
 
 How had the youth become so changed ? One day 
 while absorbed in this book, and straying at random 
 through the woody paths of Cerreto, some laughing 
 country girls waited for him at the extremity of one of 
 the walks, hidden behind some oaks, and threw hand-
 
 - 
 
 32 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 fuls of violets in his face, saying in jesting tones ; " Such 
 eyes were not made to be dimmed by poring over 
 books, but to laugh and make love." And a gay old 
 fanner, who passed by carrying upon his head a basket 
 of grapes, laughing still louder, cried : " Ah, indeed ! 
 you do not know much about it ; do you not see how 
 dead in love he is ? The end of the world must be 
 coming, if our young girls do not know what love is." 
 
 And when, on calm evenings, the windows of the hall 
 being open, the Lady Isabella poured forth a flood of 
 harmony through the dark air, singing and playing 
 songs and melodies, perhaps already composed, or, 
 abandoning herself to the inspiration that moved her, 
 improvising the verses and setting them to music; 
 Lelio would stand motionless, leaning against a tree or 
 the pedestal of a statue in the garden, inhaling a fatal 
 enchantment, rendered more intoxicating by the atmo- 
 sphere, the hour, the odorous emanations which the 
 dewy herbs and flowers sent forth, and the sweet light 
 which fell from the starry heavens ; and when the 
 windows were closed, the lamps lighted, and all animate 
 creation resigned itself to that repose to which nature 
 invites it, this solitary yoxith was still so absorbed in 
 ecstasy, that he alone remained forgetful of ever) tiling, 
 standing in the same place, until the first rays of the 
 rising sun shining in his eyes recalled him to the accus- 
 tomed duties of life. 
 
 Before continuing the recital of this love, I must 
 explain what I have alluded to above. I wish to have it 
 understood that I have made use of no poet's license, 
 but that it is an historical fact, that Isabella, Duchess of 
 Bracciano, was not only an authoress, a poetess, and a
 
 Love. 33 
 
 composer, but also an improvisatrice. Nor was this the 
 only talent of this celebrated woman, for besides her 
 native tongue, she spoke and wrote fluently in Latin, 
 French, and Spanish ; in the art of drawing she rivalled 
 the most celebrated masters, and in every accomplish- 
 ment that belonged to her high station, and in eveiy 
 lady-like elegance and refinement, she was so perfect as 
 to be rightly esteemed rather wonderful than rare. All 
 the chronicles which I have seen, which speak of this 
 unfortunate Princess, agree in using the following words : 
 " It is sufficient to say that she was esteemed by all, both 
 far and near, as a. perfect ark of learning and science, 
 and the people loved her for those great qualities, and 
 her father felt for her a most passionate tenderness." 
 Blessed might she have been, could she have used such 
 rich gifts of nature and high cultivation to render her 
 life happy and her memory immortal ! 
 
 Lelio, whenever it was possible, would enter the room 
 of the Lady Isabella, and there, sure that he was unob- 
 served, would take the instrument over which the fin- 
 gers of his mistress had swiftly flown, and would kiss it 
 madly, press it to his heart and brow, and bathe it with 
 tears ; and if he could find some paper upon which the 
 Lady Isabella had been writing, he would read the lines 
 over and over again, and try to compose some himself; 
 but although his soul overflowed with poetry, the power 
 adequately to express such overwhelming emotion was 
 wanting ; nor, perhaps, could even long study have 
 enabled him to do justice to it. He would then be 
 enraged with himself, rave, and finally end by blotting 
 out with his tears what he had written with the ink. At 
 last even this comfort, if we may call it one, was denied 
 
 2*
 
 34 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 him. The Lady Isabella finding her spotless papers 
 soiled, and being unable to discover the culprit, from 
 that time forward carefully removed them. 
 
 But in truth, except for this waste of paper, Lady Isa- 
 bella could not wish for a more assiduous and diligent 
 page than Lelio. By the expression of her face, so much 
 had he gazed upon it, he had learned to read the inmost 
 secrets of her soul, nor did he need any further indica- 
 tion of her wishes to execute them. This assiduity 
 increased to such a degree as to be somewhat trouble- 
 some, especially when Lady Isabella was conversing 
 with Sir Troilo for then he would invent a thousand 
 excuses to enter unsummoned into her room, or not to 
 leave it when there. As it rarely happens that two 
 beings who hate, or wish to injure each other, however 
 much they may endeavor to conceal their feelings, do 
 not by some means or other finally reveal them, so the 
 glances of Troilo and Lelio met, clashing like two ene- 
 mies' swords, and the more Troilo persisted in looking 
 sternly at Lelio, to make him, either through respect or 
 fear, cast down his eyes, the more steadily would Lelio 
 fix them upon him with an indescribable expression of 
 rage. The few words which they exchanged always 
 contained some biting sarcasm ; bitter were the tones of 
 their voices; bitter their actions, their bearing, their 
 gestures. 
 
 Lelio, one day stealing, according to his custom, into 
 Lady Isabella's room, took her lute hi his hand, and 
 making a pretence of playing it, began to sing a ballad 
 that was a favorite of his mistress. He did not attempt 
 to pour forth the full power of his clear voice, withheld 
 by respect for the place, and because, ignorant of musk-,
 
 Love. 35 
 
 he had learned the song by ear only, repeating it who 
 knows how many times ; but growing excited by degrees, 
 he yielded to the impulse that prompted him, and rarely 
 or never had those halls resounded with the echoes of 
 so rich a melody. Lady Isabella drew near unobserved, 
 and touched by so much harmony, approached him 
 gently, and when Lelio ceased singing, she placed her 
 hand upon his head, and patting it playfully, said 
 
 " Who taught you this, my fine boy ?" 
 
 " Love a very great love that I have for music." 
 
 "And you should follow the dictates of this love, 
 since the cultivation of the fine arts ennobles the intellect 
 and softens the heart." 
 
 And as the Duchess still kept her hand upon his head, 
 Lelio, in an imploring voice, said to her 
 
 " My Lady, for heaven's sake I beseech you to take 
 your hand from my head." 
 
 " Should I not put it there ?" asked the Duchess in 
 tones slightly resentful, and withdrawing it quickly. 
 
 " Oh 1 my Lady, pity me, it burns my brain." 
 
 " I do not see why my hand should perform the office 
 of the tunic of Nessus." 
 
 " I do not know, but I feel it." And the boy uttered 
 these words in so tremulous and mournful a voice, that 
 the Duchess put her hand to his forehead and exclaimed 
 in a frightened tone 
 
 " Dio mio! how it burns! Poor Lelio! I fear you 
 are ill. Ah ! you are fainting, and there is no one here 
 to help him. Lelio! Lelio! Ah! he will die in my 
 arms. Holy Virgin, help him !" 
 
 Lelio, his face as white as a waxen image, bathed in a 
 cold perspiration, closed his eyes and leaned his head
 
 36 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 upon Lady Isabella's bosom, while she supported him 
 with both arms. Recovering himself presently, he 
 opened his eyes with a sigh, perceived where he was, 
 and remembering how it had happened, and the reason 
 of his fainting, he said sadly, 
 
 " I thought that I was dying. Oh, why did I not 
 really die?" 
 
 The Duchess took some scented spirits and bathed his 
 temples with it, although the youth tried respectfully to 
 prevent her. 
 
 " Let me, let me," said the Duchess. " I will be a 
 mother to you. I might already be so in age almost 
 and hi affection. You have a claim upon my tender- 
 ness, for your own mother is far distant, and cannot help 
 you, poor child. But what follies are these ? Whence 
 comes this despair? Speak to me; open your whole 
 heart to me. I have seen you change countenance, have 
 seen your inward struggles ; and I have observed how 
 your arm trembles when you assist me to mount my 
 horse. Are you hi love ? Thoughtless boy, you should 
 not hide it from me ! For I too have known love's trials, 
 and know also how to pity them. You, so noble, can- 
 not have placed your affections on an unworthy object ; 
 and if upon one above you, there is no inequality which 
 love cannot level ; and you, by your high birth, your 
 wealth, and more than all by your goodness, are deserv- 
 ing of an illustrious connexion. If I have any influence, 
 I promise to exert it all to see you happy." 
 
 Meanwhile Lelio had regained his former composure ; 
 he even, all sorrow laid aside, appeared smiling, and his 
 cheeks were rosy with the hue of youth, the springtime 
 of life.
 
 Love. 
 
 37 
 
 "Oh, indeed," he replied with feigned bashfulness, 
 "do children know anything about such things? Are 
 such the thoughts of eighteen years ? What is love ? Is 
 it a fruit, a sword, or a falcon ? I have always heard it 
 said that youths grow thin, but that afterwards they be- 
 come more vigorous than before. My lady, I feel so 
 happy, so joyful, that I can ask for nothing more ; and 
 offering you passionately all the gratitude in my power 
 for your pity, I entreat you to continue the maternal 
 kindness which you have promised me, giving you my 
 word of honor, that I, for my part, will ever strive to 
 deserve it." 
 
 " I will do so, Lelio," said the Lady Isabella, adding, 
 almost in spite of herself, " for I need, more than you 
 can believe, people to love me truly. I, you see, Lelio, 
 am miserable, miserable enough, for no one on this earth 
 loves me. My father loved me dearly, but he has left 
 me. O my father, why did you leave me alone without 
 a guide abandoned by all?" While she was thus 
 speaking, Lelio knelt on the ground, and kissing the 
 hem of her dress, uttered these words: 
 
 "I make a sacred vow to be yours till death." 
 
 The Duchess, who through necessity and custom had 
 learned to control her emotions, perceiving that she had 
 gone further than she had intended, said, in order to 
 distract her own thoughts and Lelio's from these events 
 
 " Rise, Lelio, I do not wish the gift of voice which I 
 have discovered in you to be lost : I do not want you 
 to sing by ear, and am ready to teach you music. If 
 you continue to improve as rapidly as you have begun, 
 it will not be long before you will have no equal in the 
 court of my illustrious brother Francesco. Let us take
 
 38 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 the music of the song that you were singing just now ; 
 I will show you the notes, and the places where the 
 voice must be elevated and lowered. Signor Giulio 
 Caccini, a Roman musician, composed it expressly for 
 me. The melody is soft and sweet." 
 
 "If I had known before, honored lady, whose compo- 
 sition it was, I should have taken care not to learn it by 
 heart, much less to sing it." 
 
 " Why so, Lelio ? Have you unfriendly feelings to- 
 wards Signor Giulio ? " 
 
 " I have never exchanged a word with him ; but his 
 face has such a bad expression ; he looks to me as if he 
 had the whole sect of the Pharisees in his heart." 
 
 " It seems just the contrary to me. He is gracious 
 and kind to all, speaks gently, and smiles sweetly. I 
 could confess " 
 
 " And I regard him as the most consummate traitor 
 that has ever been since Judas. Mark but his smile ; it 
 does not seem to be his own ; I believe he begged it 
 from some second-hand dealer. In his small velvety 
 hands, do you not see the cat's paw in which the claws 
 are sheathed ? He preaches charity and neighborly love 
 to all, it is true, but he does it for his OAvn sake ; for he 
 does not find it for his interest to encourage people to 
 scrutinize too closely, and to discover by rigid examina- 
 tion the characters of others." 
 
 Lady Isabella said, smilingly, "Beware, Lelio; judge 
 not, that you be not judged." 
 
 " Those are holy words, that must be understood lite- 
 rally, since otherwise it would be necessary to renounce 
 both experience and life. And, therefore, I may judge, 
 since I do not fear to be judged."
 
 Love. 39 
 
 Lelio was right, and a deed of blood is proof of it. 
 
 The chronicles relate that Captain degli Antinori hav- 
 ing to carry to Eleonora di Toledo, wife of Piero dei 
 Medici, a love-letter from the knight Antonio, his 
 brother, then imprisoned on account of that very love 
 at Porto Ferrai, took advantage of the opportunity of 
 Don Piero's going out with his retinue, entered quickly 
 the Palazzo Vecchio, went up to the apartments of the 
 Lady Eleonora, who then occupied the frescoed rooms 
 that look out upon the Piazza del Grano, and imme- 
 diately asked an audience of the porter; but he had 
 absolute orders not to let a single person pass, for his 
 lady was dressing. In vain did the Captain insist that 
 his business was most urgent that those orders were 
 not to be regarded that he should let him pass, or at 
 least apprise the lady of his presence. The porter, born 
 and educated at Innspruck, would not listen to his argu- 
 ments ; his lady had given orders that for an hour he 
 should give ingress to no one, and until the sixty 
 minutes were expired, no one should pass. There was 
 no remedy ; the Captain began to walk up and down the 
 antechamber in a passion, but soon becoming weary of 
 oscillating backwards and forwards like the pendulum 
 of a clock, he saw that the amiable Caccini was also 
 waiting for an audience. Exchanging a few words of 
 courtesy with him, and finding him apparently all kind- 
 ness, particularly towards the Lady Eleonora, Avhom, 
 with an air of tenderness, and with eyes full of tears, he 
 called his adored and virtuous patron, he incautiously 
 intrusted him witli the letter, begging him, for the love 
 of Heaven, to take care and let no one see it, and to give 
 it with his own hands to the Lady Eleonora. Scarcely
 
 4<3 Isabella Orstni. 
 
 had the Captain turned his back, when the musician 
 concealed himself in the embrasure of a window, and 
 treacherously opening the letter, learned from it the 
 truth of what was generally suspected that is to say, 
 the intrigue of the knight with the Princess ; wherefore, 
 in the hope of a great reward, he went directly to the 
 Grand Duke, and first, humbly craving pardon for hav- 
 ing opened the letter, excusing himself by affirming that 
 he had done so out of the great love he bore to the 
 dignity of his gracious and noble lord and master, he 
 placed it in his hands. The Grand Duke changed coun- 
 tenance while reading it, but having finished, with appa- 
 rent tranquillity, he refolded it leisurely, and putting it 
 into his bosom, said, in a serious voice, as was his cus- 
 tom for rumor says he spoke briefly : 
 
 " Musician, I see here four guilty persons the knight 
 Antinori, who wrote this letter, Captain Antinori, who 
 brought it, Eleonora, who was to receive it, and you, who 
 opened it ; go each one shall be rewarded according to 
 his deserts." 
 
 Isabella, a woman of singular excellence of disposition, 
 rendered, by the unfortunate circumstances of her lite, 
 unhappy, but not suspicious, added quickly : 
 
 "Any one who loves me, must dismiss such wrong 
 and unreasonable prejudices; in my opinion they are 
 unworthy and unjust, and generally give evidence of an 
 ill-natured disposition. All have the right of being 
 judged according to their works. Be careful, my dear 
 Lilio, always to have a clear conscience, and life will 
 seem less burdensome to you than to the other children 
 of Adam. Come, now, and learn the song of this brave 
 Roman. How can you believe that a man capable of
 
 Love. 41 
 
 composing so sweet a melody, could have a bad 
 heart?" 
 
 Thus does man judge ! 
 
 The Duchess, taking the sheet of music in her hand, 
 commanded Lelio, who obeyed not unwillingly, to sit 
 by her side, and began to teach him where the voice 
 should rest, and how and where it should glide at 
 length, or quaver in melodious trills ; hi short, all the 
 tastes of an accomplished musician. But Lelio paid 
 more attention to the white hands than to the notes, 
 and still more to the lovely face that grew animated 
 over the music ; wrapt in a kind of ecstasy, he not only 
 ceased accompanying Lady Isabella, but could hardly 
 draw his breath. Lady Isabella said : " But keep on." 
 And he, uttering with difficulty a faint note, was silent 
 the next moment. The Lady Isabella, again, " Why do 
 you stop ? " And thus alternated reproofs and silence. 
 Lilio, prompted by love, drew nearer to the Duchess ; 
 hence, it so chanced that some of her raven ringlets, 
 stirred by the motion of her head, touched his cheek ; 
 the boy trembled in every limb, bis eyes, suffused with 
 tears, shone with a wild light, his dry lips burned ; it 
 seemed joy, but it was really pain. The cheek touched 
 by the hair became red, as if burning metal had been 
 applied to it, and the page could scarcely bear the keen 
 and tremulous passion that agitated him ; but recover- 
 ing himself, he would again return to the trial, as we 
 see the moth, led by fatal instinct, flutter round the 
 flame that consumes him. Thus, not heeding the mimites 
 that sped, the personages of our history remained a long 
 time, until the Duchess, casually raising her eyes, saw 
 standing before her Sir Troilo Orsini.
 
 42 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Troilo of the pallid brow ! His eyes sparkled beneath 
 his black and bushy eyebrows like the jackal's, eager for 
 prey. He held his right hand within his black velvet 
 mantle ; his left hand, on his side, was holding his hat 
 ornamented with black plumes ; and so motionless was 
 he, that one might have believed him a statue. Isabella 
 encountered his malignant gaze without the slightest em- 
 barrassment, and paying no attention to it, said frankly : 
 
 " Welcome, Sir Troilo, and share my happiness, for I 
 have discovered a new virtue in my page ; he sings like 
 an angel, and I intend to cultivate his voice till he is 
 perfect ; then, when he returns home, it will please his 
 mother, and he will be the favorite of the ladies of Fermo." 
 
 Sir Troilo replied : 
 
 " You would repeat the injustice of Americus Ves- 
 pucius, since I discovered before you did, that this 
 youth, with proper instruction, might become a won- 
 derful musician." 
 
 Lelio felt the keen satire, and his face burned, but he 
 was silent. 
 
 " Your ladyship," continued Sir Troilo, " I must now 
 speak to you of something more important ; please to 
 listen to me. Page, take these, and put them in my 
 room, and be careful not to come back again until you 
 are called." 
 
 " Save your honor, Sir Troilo, I am here in the ser- 
 vice of her Ladyship the Duchess ; and unless she be 
 pleased to command otherwise, I beg of you to take it in 
 courtesy, if I do not go." 
 
 This time it was Troilo who colored ; and already 
 some cutting reply quivered on his lip, when the Lady 
 Isabella hastily interposed, saying :
 
 Love. 43 
 
 " Lelio, obey Sir Troilo." 
 
 Lelio took the sword, gloves, and hat, and bowing 
 low, walked slowly towards the door. 
 
 " Page ! " cried Orsini after him, " carry my sword 
 with both hands ; it is heavy, and you may drop it." 
 
 Lelio drew the gleaming sword like lightning from 
 its scabbard, and brandishing it swiftly around his head, 
 replied with a bold voice, and without stopping : 
 
 " Xever fear, Sir Troilo, for my heart and hand are 
 strong enoiigh to wield it as a gentleman against any 
 honorable knight. You understand ; against any knight." 
 
 If he added any other words, they were not heard, as 
 he was so distant. 
 
 " See," said Sir Troilo, spitefully, closing the door of 
 the hall, " see how your indiscreet mildness raises 
 around you a troop of insolent fellows." 
 
 " I have not observed any insolent ones, although I 
 have an ungrateful one, Sir Troilo." 
 
 And, seated side by side, they began to converse in 
 low, but excited tones, and, to judge by their gestures 
 and manner, it could be neither pleasure, kindness, nor 
 any other tender feeling, that influenced this conversa- 
 tion, but reproofs, suspicions, and fears ; the Omnipotent 
 having ordained, in His eternal decrees, that man, for his 
 sins, should never be perfectly happy. 
 
 Now my readers, especially my lady readers, must 
 understand that three full years had elapsed since the 
 day that Isabella and Troilo had sworn the eternity of 
 an affection that never should have commenced; and 
 three years is a long eternity in love affairs. Eternity ! 
 Fancy a word so unsuitable to the lips of man, still less 
 to those of woman. Love engagements usually begin
 
 44 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 on two sides and end on one. It is the best plan, though 
 one but rarely put into execution, to annul them at a 
 fixed time by mutual consent. Contracts of love have 
 not the same advantages as those of business. In the 
 latter, before making such a contract, the person inte- 
 rested wishes to understand the exchanges, the pur- 
 chases, the location, and the like, and the advantages 
 accruing to him in the value, the expenses, and the 
 accessories, like one accustomed to be mindful of his own 
 interests in such affairs ; but in the former he bargains 
 and binds himself blindfold, awaiting the consummation 
 before he reckons and judges how much he has gained 
 by it. And this sad day of reckoning had come and 
 passed for Isabella and Troilo, and by this time who 
 knows how often they had summed it up ! The truth of 
 this history obliges us to confess that the lady had found 
 herself at a great disadvantage, which fact contributed 
 in no small degree to alienate the lovers. Indeed Isa- 
 bella possessed an ardent love for true art, and for the 
 pleasures of science ; an apt and happy talent, and a 
 very great enthusiasm ; great kindness of disposition, 
 sympathetic feelings, noble manners, lady-like elegance, 
 and a courtesy truly regal. The sentiment of love re- 
 mains. I cannot say that the power of loving Avas want- 
 ing in her, for it would not be true ; but she was deceived, 
 believing that that was an unconquerable necessity of 
 the heart, which was merely an impulse of the imagina- 
 tion ; and as there is nothing more ethereal than the 
 fancy, or more ready to evaporate, she often not only 
 wondered, but was terrified, to find herself cold towards 
 persons and things for whom and which she had shortly 
 before felt an ardent fondness. Happy would it have
 
 Love. 45 
 
 been for her if nature or art had balanced more equally 
 her heart and her brain. Grave masters and solemn 
 teachings had not been wanting ; but if, when obliged 
 to choose between severe precepts and easy ones, between 
 strict teachings and mild ones, the second seem the plea- 
 santer to follow, it need not be asked why they obtain 
 the preference. In her father's house she was surrounded 
 by the worst examples, and alas ! miserable girl ! they 
 punished in her, the most innocent of them all, the 
 crimes or consequences of crimes, of which her brothers 
 should more justly have borne the penalties. Indeed, 
 the various chronicles that I have examined concur in 
 the same judgment, expressed in the following manner 
 by one of them : " Every one said that a remedy should 
 have been adopted before Prince Francesco and her 
 other brothers had made use of her to draw to their 
 wishes other ladies of the city, carrying her out with 
 them every night dressed as a man, and then pretending 
 that she should remain a saint." Isabella, moreover, 
 possessed, or better to express it, was possessed by what 
 is called a poetic temperament a warm heart in the 
 power of an ardent imagination like a bold knight on 
 an unbridled horse, a situation replete with the saddest 
 consequences. 
 
 And how did Troilo appear on the day of reckoning? 
 Troilo of the pallid brow, the heavy eyebrow, and the 
 falcon eye. If we consider his figure, few were the 
 knights in Italy who could sustain any comparison with 
 him. He was well formed in person, and of so hand- 
 some a face that artists of note had begged him to sit to 
 them as a model, and he had consequently grown very 
 vain. His hair was short and his face smooth, with the
 
 46 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 exception of a dark imperial and moustache. Having 
 heard that Alexander the Great leaned his head upon 
 his right shoulder, Troilo, not to be inferior to him, imi- 
 tated the habit. He always dressed in black velvet; 
 was usually sad and pensive, speaking rarely, not because 
 he imagined himself a poor conversationalist, for he 
 ranked himself on the contrary far above Cicero, but it 
 was natural to him. When he said but little, people 
 were persuaded that he was a man of remarkable talents 
 and a keen observer of human affairs ; but if he con- 
 versed at greater length the vanity of his mind was 
 clearly manifested, as our ancestors aver the solidity of 
 the vase to be proved by sounding it. How the Fates 
 had placed such a head on such a body is a question not 
 easily answered. It is very certain that he would have 
 driven to despair those who undertake to discover by 
 external signs the passions and imaginations of the soul. 
 He surpassed all the noblemen of that age in prowess and 
 courage. In the bloody quarrels of the barons, for 
 which the streets of Rome were then notorious, he was 
 always the first to commence and the last to retreat. 
 Naturally strong, he fought with strength, although trea- 
 son was the height of his ambition ; and his favorite 
 hero, the famous Alphonso Piccolomini, a celebrated 
 highwayman whom Ferdinand dei Medici, as Cardinal, 
 once saved from the gallows, but afterwards, as Grand 
 Duke, hung. But hi the battles where skill rather than 
 strength is requisite, or where the one should be tem- 
 pered by the other, he showed himself so incompetent 
 that he could not be trusted with the rank even of a 
 colonel of infantry ; nor did he succeed any better in 
 business transactions, for sometimes by his obstinate
 
 Love. 47 
 
 silence he inspired suspicion, and sometimes by his vain 
 eloquence, even more obstinate, contempt. Hence the 
 Medicis abstained from employing him, and kept him at 
 home, like the Bucentaur, the ornamented and useless 
 galley which the Venetians used to bring out on the 
 occasion of the marriage of the Doge with the Adriatic ; 
 so his commissions consisted of congratulations, as his 
 three embassies to France bear witness, where he was 
 sent the first time to congratulate the Duke d'Anjou 
 upon the victory which he had gained at Moncontour 
 over the Admiral Coligny ; the second was when Charles 
 IX. espoused Elizabeth, the second daughter of the 
 Emperor Maximilian ; the third and last when the Duke 
 d'Anjou, afterwards Henry HI., was chosen King of 
 Poland. And yet so vainglorious was he, that he never 
 ceased reminding Isabella of the many and great sacri- 
 fices which he had made for her, in not fighting battles 
 which he never would have fought, and constantly longed 
 for the victories which he never could have achieved. 
 His love for Isabella was idleness, the impulse of youth- 
 ful blood, pride in conquering a woman so handsome 
 and so deservedly celebrated. He soon grew weary of 
 it, since forms, however beautiful, please by their vari- 
 ety ; and the lady's talent, by humiliating him, was to 
 him rather a cause of dislike than of admiration. I will 
 not affirm that he hated Isabella, but he chafed impa- 
 tiently under the tic, and even more impatiently when 
 he found that he could not free himself from it, and 
 strengthened it irrevocably by a fatal knot. His mind 
 was closed against the noble, the decorous, the right, 
 and the beautiful. If Isabella recited her own tifcr 
 another's poetry, he would fall asleep a terrible slight
 
 48 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 to a poet, but to a poetess culpable beyond measure. 
 Music gave him the headache. With all this he was 
 tormented by a cold and apathetic jealousy, not because 
 he loved Isabella, but because he wished Isabella to love 
 him ; he wished that all might read around her neck 
 these words, which used to be engraved upon the collars 
 of slaves : " The property of Troilo Orsini." In short, 
 the time had arrived when the joyous rosy garland 
 woven by love was changed to a chain of remorse and 
 hate, forged by the hands of the infernal Furies.
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE KX1GHT LIOXABDO SALVIATI. 
 
 Essendo di fortuna e <T ingegno meno che mediocre, mi sento non dimanco 
 avere dalla natura un bene particolare ed egregio, nel quale io mi sento tanto 
 superiore a multi, quanto quasi di ogni uomo in tutte le altre cose mi conosco 
 piu basso. Questa e una cotal mirabile inclinazione, ed una come natural conos- 
 cenza ch' io ho nella ainicizia . . . . Io sono a questa parte quasi rapito dallo 
 Dio del mio ingegno. 
 
 SALVIATI, Dialffyo delF Amiei&ia. 
 
 Although I am less than mediocre both in fortune and talents, yet I feel that 
 nature has gifted me with a particular and lofty blessing, in which I feel myself 
 so much superior to others, as I know myself in almost everything else inferior 
 to all other men. This is a wonderful inclination, and natural knowledge which 
 I have in friendship .... I feel in this respect almost exalted by the god of 
 my genius. . . 
 
 SALVIATT, IHalogue on Friendship. 
 
 As poets sometimes describe a pensive maiden stray- 
 ing by the margin of a brook, plucking the leaves from 
 a rose, scattering them to the mercy of the current, and 
 watching the wave that carries them away, so Isabella, 
 with her cheek resting on her hand, her eyes closed, 
 mused upon the dear remembrances borne down upon 
 the stream of time. Where was her innocence ? Where 
 her youthful affections ? Where the serene purity 
 of her mind ? The tree of life, that once appeared 
 so fresh with perpetual verdure, now how horribly 
 bare! And the few leaves that remain, rustle drily, 
 and are ready to fall with the slightest wind that 
 
 3
 
 50 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 blows. Of Cosimo's daughters, she alone is left ; Mary 
 died at seventeen for love ; Lucretia, perhaps through 
 the same cause, disappeared from the world at twenty- 
 one. Love had been a star of evil auspice for the women 
 of the Medici family ! The dear boy, Don Garcia, had 
 abandoned her, and she could never think of him with- 
 out her imagination depicting the angelic face, that wished 
 to speak to her but could not, and tried to sign to her 
 with his head, while his hair, dripping with blood, 
 stained his beautiful face. God knows how this thought 
 pierced her heart! For the report of the domestic 
 tragedy had reached her ears, but her frightened soul 
 shrank in horror at believing it true. Her father, 
 Cosimo, whom, however severe or cruel towards his 
 other children, she had found kind, was still young 
 when he left this world, and although in dying he left 
 her, as manifest tokens of his love, seven thousand 
 dollars, a palace, three thousand dollars upon the Pisan 
 estates, gardens and houses in Florence, and jewels 
 worth a treasure, all this abundance of wealth had not 
 served to procure her one friend in whom to confide, or 
 from whom to seek counsel. 
 
 She could not depend upon Cardinal Ferdinando, as he 
 had left his home at an early age, and, obliged to live in 
 Rome, had there placed his heart and thoughts ; or if 
 his mind ever turned towards his home, it was through 
 pride, or through desire of royalty, for which he was 
 so eager that, in process of time, being exalted to the 
 Tuscan throne, he took for coat of arms the King of the 
 bees, with the motto: Majestate tantum. Besides 
 which, she had but little reason to consider him kindly- 
 disposed towards her, as she had, in times past, rather
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 51 
 
 favored than opposed the intrigue of Don Francesco 
 with Bianca ; but perceiving that this passion was 
 taking deep root, and might become a source of great 
 trouble, she had endeavored to repair her fault, by 
 thwarting it to the utmost of her power, which only 
 excited against her the bitter hatred of Francesco and 
 the vengeance of Bianca, and did not succeed, on the 
 other hand, in restoring to her the friendship of Car- 
 dinal Ferdinando, much less that of Queen Giovanna, her 
 sister-in-law. 
 
 Giovanna, a very pious woman, was still a woman 
 wounded in her dearest affections as wife and mother, 
 and in the pride of her noble lineage, seeing a Venetian 
 adventuress preferred to her, the daughter of an Em- 
 peror, and by birth the Queen of Hungary and Bohemia. 
 This giief, which continually tormented her mind and 
 preyed upon her health, at last rendered her so eager 
 for revenge in any form, that, happening one evening, 
 in crossing the bridge of the Santa Trinita, to meet 
 Bianca, she ordered the carriage to stop, and com- 
 manded her guards to throw her enemy into the Arno ; 
 and if it had not been for Count Eliodoro Bastigli, a 
 very worthy nobleman, who begged her to consider 
 how unbecoming such an act would be to a Queen and 
 a Christian, adding also that she should leave her cause 
 to God, and offer her sorrows as an expiation for her 
 sins, that would have been the last day of Bianca's life, 
 since the guards, not very scrupulous about such 
 matters, were on the point of laying violent hands upon 
 her. Still this poor Giovanna could not so entirely 
 conquer herself as not to hate mortally every one who 
 had contributed to alienate her husband from her ;
 
 2 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 among these, she suspected, and not unjustly, that 
 Isabella stood first ; and for this reason, and also that 
 they were of natures, of desires, habits, and pursuits, 
 not only different, but entirely incompatible with each 
 other, there was no evil that she did not wish her ; and 
 although she repented and confessed her ill-will, never- 
 theless, weak human nature prevailing in her, she hated 
 her worse than before. 
 
 As to Don Pietro, hardened to every kind of vice, 
 forgetful not only of princely dignity, but even of what 
 belonged to a man, Isabella could place as little reliance 
 upon him. Alas ! in so much sorrow, she found herself 
 alone ! No one could aid her with counsel or help. 
 Bitter thoughts now took possession of her, and these 
 thoughts left their trace in a furrow upon her brow and 
 a wound in her heart, such as God alone could heal, or 
 death steep in oblivion. 
 
 Lelio, opening the door of the saloon, announced : 
 " The illustrious knight, Lionardo Salviati, di-sires to 
 see your ladyship." 
 
 "Lionardo Salviati!" she exclaimed, and then added 
 to herself, " God surely sends him to me." 
 
 And Salviati entered, introduced with due ceremony. 
 There is no help for it : according to established rule 
 I should immediately make these two persons speak, and 
 endeavor to invent a vivid, strong, and pointed dialogue, 
 that the interest of the narrative might not flag. In 
 narratives or dramas, all that prevents the action from 
 progressing freely towards its end, is to be reprehended; 
 the different parts ought all to converge towards the 
 deiwuement, like so many straight lines, for a straight 
 line, as we all know, is the shortest distance between
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 53 
 
 two points. And the good Guizot reminds those who 
 may have forgotten it, of this maxim, when, being am- 
 bassador in London, he allowed no other device to be 
 engraved on his plate than a straight line, with the 
 motto: Linea recta brevissima ; whence he derived in 
 France the title of Cato, and in Paris they made illu- 
 minations and bonfires about it. Does it not seem as if 
 in France it is very easy to acquire the title of Cato ? 
 Whoever holds the above opinion is right, but I cannot 
 abstain from infringing on the rule. How many times 
 has it happened to you, my amiable lady-readers, to 
 " Know the right, and yet the wrong pursue ? " And 
 then, I am beginning to grow old, and old age is garru- 
 lous. Moreover, when I took a fancy to narrate these 
 and other events in the form of dramatic narratives, I 
 designed, following the dictates of such rules, to let you 
 know all the particulars I could give in regard to the 
 persons and the times of which my story might treat. 
 In fact (I do not say it to all, but to the greater number 
 of you, my beloved lady-readers) , who would give you 
 such information, if I did not ? Now that we are, as it 
 were, en famille^ confess whether you would ever have 
 had the time and patience requisite to gather,it from 
 the folio and quarto volumes in which I found it ? heavy 
 and worm-eaten books, which would contaminate the 
 fairness of your white kid gloves, Avith a trace of dust 
 not less horrible to behold than the blood upon the side 
 of Adonis. Allow me then to speak in my own way ; 
 be a little gracious to me, for I profess myself entirely 
 yours, and kneeling with the knees of my mindf honor 
 
 * Con le ginocchia deila mente inchine.
 
 54 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 you as much as I possibly can. Perhaps I shall not weary 
 you; but should I be disappointed in this hope, the 
 remedy lies in your own power ; you can do what, in a 
 similar case, Ludovico Ariosto advises : 
 
 " Let him who will, pass pages three or four, 
 Not reading,"* 
 
 for the history would not be marred by your so doing, 
 nor would it proceed less intelligibly. 
 
 Who then was, and whence came this illustrious Sir 
 Lionardo Salviati? 
 
 Sir Lionardo was the child of Giovanbattista di Lio- 
 nardo Salviati, and Ginevra di Carlo Antonio Corbi- 
 nelli. His family had often been at enmity with the family 
 of the Medici. Cardinal Salviati conspired with the 
 Pazzi to destroy it root and branch. The attempt 
 failed, and they hung him from the window of the Pa- 
 lazzo della Signoria, just as they found him, in his epis- 
 copal robes. This circumstance by no means interrupted 
 the good friendship, much less the good relationship of 
 the two families ; and one Salviati was father-in-law of 
 Lorenzo the Magnificent, brother-in-law of Pope Leo X., 
 and great-grandfather of the Grand Duke Cosimo, who 
 was the son of Maria di Jacopo Salviati, so that Lio- 
 nardo might be considered a relation of Isabella. Lio- 
 nardo (although it could not well be said at that time, 
 but can with perfect propriety be mentioned now) was 
 scarcely two years older than Isabella, and they had 
 been educated together, so that he had always loved her 
 
 * Passi chi vuol, tre carte, o quattro, senza 
 Leggerne verso.
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 55 
 
 tenderly, as though she had been a sister. Of a delicate 
 constitution, and gifted by nature with an amiable dis- 
 position, he was ill adapted for the violent knightly exer- 
 cises of the tunes, and gave himself up entirely to the 
 study of belles lettres and philosophy. His countenance 
 was pale, his beard thin, his expression sad ; his lungs 
 were delicate, yet he had a strong voice ; his pronuncia- 
 tion was so clear and sweet as to attract attention ; and 
 modulating his speech more like that of a petitioner than 
 a commander, he easily drew to himself the ears and 
 minds of those who listened to him. The Grand Duke 
 Cosimo had conferred upon Mm the Order of St. Stefano, 
 and he, accustomed to view matters superficially, wore 
 the red cross devoutly upon his breast, fully convinced 
 that the founder had no other aim than that of freeing 
 the sepulchre of Christ from the hands of the dogs (for 
 so were called the Turks in those tunes, and they paid 
 us in turn in the same coin). Lionardo was born when 
 the destinies of the Republic were buried ; educated at 
 court, a relative of the Prince, and well treated by him, 
 he had never listened to the fiery words of the liberals, 
 of whom some were wandering in miserable exile, while 
 others had been cut off either by a natural death, the 
 judicial axe, or the dagger of the assassin. Having heard 
 them even from his childhood branded as grumbling, 
 mischievous men, who loved to fish in muddy streams, 
 and who were the worst enemies of Florence, he had 
 formed the opinion that Cosimo I. was the true liberator 
 of the country, a faithful defender and supporter of the 
 public safety, a man, in short, of great worth, to be pre- 
 ferred to the ancients, rather than compared to the mo- 
 derns. Add to this, that his vanity as writer was fully
 
 56 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 satisfied by Cosimo, who " made a pretence of patroniz- 
 ing men of letters, and showed it sometimes by words 
 rather than by deeds ; for no one of these was helped, 
 honored, or supported by him, except in a slight degree."* 
 And in truth, when Lionardo recited the oration in honor 
 of his coronation, Cosimo said to him, without the slight- 
 est approach to a smile, " that among his other reasons 
 for prizing the dignity which he had received, was this 
 most worthy and lofty oration which had followed it,"f 
 as if Cosimo, who had no more faith in white than in 
 black, was a man to pay attention to such nonsense ; but 
 he did so to acquire renown at a cheap rate, or because 
 he knew how much literary men love flattery, for if they 
 often make vapory speeches, they oftener still are fed on 
 wind. And certainly it was not Leonardo's fault if, 
 through his writings, Cosimo was not famous in the 
 memory of posterity, since he let no opportunity escape 
 of exalting him to the skies with all manner of praises. 
 
 But with what reason or justice can we reproach Lio- 
 nardo Salviati, when other famous writers spoke even 
 more openly and unblushingly ? We shall mention only 
 Bernardo Davanzati, whom the translation of Tacitus 
 ought to have inspired with the example, if not of his 
 boldness, at least of his modesty, but who did not hesi- 
 tate to declare from the pulpit, that " Cosimo's eleva- 
 tion was indeed a Divine dispensation, he having acquir- 
 ed rule, which is the most desirable and supreme of all 
 blessings, called to it by his fellow- citizens' love, the 
 means of all others the most just and holy, who, recog- 
 
 * Segni, vol. ii., p 337. 
 
 f Essay on the Knight L. Salviati, read before the Florentine Aca- 
 demy by Pier F. Carabi.
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 57 
 
 nising the virtue of his heart and mind, unanimously 
 elected him Prince in an heroic and natural manner. 
 Sk'iia, under his mild and lenient government, might say, 
 like Themistocles, flying to Persia : " Woe to me if I 
 had not lost, for then I should have been lost !" lie 
 recalled all the exiles to their homes, and restored to 
 them their property ; mild, benign, pious, most merciful, 
 diligent in providing food that the people might not suf- 
 fer famine, always eager to diminish the public taxes, 
 and so solicitous for justice, that he loved it better than 
 himself, of which he gave a manifest proof, when, while 
 the war against Pietro Strozzi was raging, he prayed 
 God to give victory not to himself, but to him whose 
 intentions were the best, and whose cause was the most 
 just."* If then, I say, writers who were neither rela- 
 tives nor friends did not shrink from such and similar 
 enormities, we cannot well reproach Lionardo if he 
 ignored, or wished to ignore, the arms prepared by Car- 
 dinal Cibo, the perfidy of Francesco Vettori, of Roberto 
 Acciaiuoli, of Matteo Strozzi, of the worst of all of them 
 Francesco Guicciardini, the terrors spread, the violences 
 committed, and the night of January 8, 1537, when, 
 Cosimo being present, it was decided between the above 
 mentioned persons, and Alessandro Vitelli, to elect Cosi- 
 mo Duke, and if it were necessary, even to use force ; 
 and the morning of the 9th, when amidst the shouts of 
 the soldiers who cried : " Hurra for the Duke and the 
 Medici !" and the threats of Vitelli, who swore " that 
 if the Senators did not hasten to elect Cosimo, they wo;ild 
 be all dead men," he was unanimously elected Duke. 
 
 * Bernardo DavanzatL Oration on the Death of Cosimo. 
 3*
 
 58 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Cosimo had promised Guicciardini that he would 
 allow himself to be guided by him entirely ; but for 
 this once the intriguer was over-reached, and, strange 
 as it may seem, by a youth of eighteen, who had pro- 
 mised also to marry Guicciardini's daughter, but the 
 latter had not even the courage to remind him of it, and 
 died overwhelmed with self-reproaches and the contempt 
 of others. 
 
 It is the duty of an historian (but I am a poor novel- 
 ist), it is the duty of every honest man to relate the 
 good deeds of which human nature is justly proud. 
 Benedetto Varchi, in the fifteenth book of his Histories, 
 fearlessly narrates a noble act ; first of all, he mentions 
 that on the night preceding the unanimous election of 
 Cosimo, it was resolved in a very secret conclave, that 
 he should be elected Duke by any means, even if it in- 
 volved the necessity of using force / and then relates 
 an anecdote of the good Palla Rucellai, who boldly said 
 that he no longer wished in the Republic either Princes 
 or Dukes, and to prove that his deeds were consistent 
 with his words, he took the black ball, and showing it 
 to all, threw it into the ballot-box, exclaiming : " This 
 is my vote." Then when Guicciardini and Vettori re- 
 proved him for this, observing that his ball could count 
 only for one, he replied : " If you had decided before- 
 hand what you intended to do, there was no need of 
 calling me /" and he rose to depart ; but Cardinal Cybo 
 detained him with cunning mildness, and endeavored to 
 frighten him with the show of the surrounding arms, 
 and representing the danger which he might incur ; but 
 the brave man, not at all startled, replied : " Sir Cardi- 
 nal^ lam already more than sixty-two years old, so that
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 59 
 
 now they can do me but very little harm." These are 
 magnanimous examples, which can never be remember- 
 ed or praised enough ; and as many times as I consider 
 that Benedetto Varchi wrote these histories by order of 
 Cosimo, and read them to him, and that he listened to them 
 without showing any resentment, I feel forced to con- 
 clude, that men capable of telling the truth seem to me 
 even more rare than Princes capable of listening to it, 
 and that adulation is oftener the cowardice of courtiers 
 than the requisition of Princes. 
 
 Behold how joyful Siena was ! Of the thirty thou- 
 sand souls which it contained before the war, hardly 
 ten thousand remained ; what with the misery, the bat- 
 tles, and painful massacres which he who wishes can find 
 described in the Diary of Sozzini, or the narratives of 
 Roffia, fifty thousand peasants perished, without enu- 
 merating those who took refuge in foreign lands. The 
 country was deserted, the cultivation of the fields 
 entirely neglected, and manufactures destroyed, so that 
 Siena feels the consequences of it, even to this day. 
 And as Tacitus says : " They make a desert and they 
 call it peace." 
 
 Scipione Ammirato, either through conscientious scru- 
 ples or horror unwilling to betray the truth, and equal- 
 ly unwilling to displease the Medicis, by whose orders 
 he was writing, bethought himself of the expedient of 
 leaving a hiatus in his history, which resembles the veil 
 painted by Timanthes before the face of Agamemnon, 
 in the sacrifice of Iphigenia. Bernardo Segni, on the 
 contrary, in the histories which were published after his 
 death, described this infamy of Siena, saying in conclu- 
 sion : " They surrendered to the Duke, after having lost
 
 60 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 all their dominions, destroyed all their property, and the 
 lives of almost all the men of that city and province." 
 
 As regards provisions, ten times there was a scarcity, 
 and three times it was so great that people starved to 
 death ; nor in small numbers, for in the famine of 1554, 
 over sixty thousand people died in Florence and through- 
 out the state.* 
 
 That he was mild and merciful, let certain extracts 
 from manuscripts in the Magliabecchian and Riccardiun 
 libraries testify, from which we learn that in a very few 
 years one hundred and thirty of the principal citizens of 
 Florence were declared rebels ; most of those who fell 
 into his hands were either hung or beheaded ; some were 
 sent to the prisons or galleys ; several assassinated ; the 
 property of all of them was confiscated, and even the 
 dowries of the women. On most of the petitions implor- 
 ing the life of some rebel, Cosimo inscribed with his own 
 hand : " Let him be hung." f I have read somewhere, 
 that he retained one thousand assassins in his employ ; 
 nor were they all plebeians, but some of them people of 
 good standing ; he himself was personally the executioner 
 of several, since, not to mention his son, Don Garcia, no 
 historian denies that he killed with his own hand Sforza 
 Almeni of Perugia, " allowing, however," adds Aldo 
 Manuzio, " the property of the murdered man to go to 
 his heirs, and fulfilling his will as expressed in a certain 
 document which was found in his pocket." Does not 
 this seem to you the act of a most benign Prince ! 
 
 As to the prayer made to God in the war with Strozzi, 
 
 * Sogni, History ; books 14 and 15. 
 f Manuzio ; Life of Cosimo dei Medici.
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 61 
 
 that He would give the victory to the righteous cause, 
 we find testimonies respecting it in his commission to 
 the Bishop of Cortona, who was sent to France under 
 the pretext of paying his respects to the Queen, but in 
 reality to corrupt the servants of Piero Strozzi, so that 
 they might administer to their master the poison which 
 he himself took to them in a vial, whereby he acquired 
 the nickname of Bishop of the Vial,* and also in the let- 
 ter written to Captain Giovanni Orandini, preserved in 
 the Annal XII. of the Colombaria, in which we read 
 the following words, in regard to the order to assas- 
 sinate Piero Strozzi : " Hence going to Siena, either by 
 a gunshot, or in whatever other way may seem best to 
 you, rid us of the arrogance of this man ; in return for 
 which, we can promise ten thousand crowns in cash, 
 and our protection, besides honors and emoluments."! 
 Consequently it behoves us to confess that if he trusted 
 much in God, he trusted even more in gunshots, or 
 rather, that if it is true that he invoked the name of 
 God, it was because he who is accustomed to deceive 
 men, rises at last to such a degree of folly as to believe 
 that he can even ^deceive God. And in reference also 
 to his moderation in imposing taxes upon the people, 
 let the following extract from an impartial historian suf- 
 fice : " He oppressed the citizens and subjects with un- 
 heard of taxes, doubling the old, and adding new ones ; 
 in managing the state, he has in a great measure ruined 
 the honor and property of his native place, and Tuscany." J 
 
 * Ammirato. Florence Edition, 1827. Last volume. 
 
 f Aldo Manuzio. 
 
 j Segni's History, pp. 159, 184 Ed. of Milan.
 
 62 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 He was indeed pious too, for after Scarperia had 
 been destroyed, and Florence threatened by an earth- 
 quake, and the Palazzo della Signoria had been seven 
 times struck by lightning in one day, he issued several 
 decrees against blasphemy and other sins ; and in addi- 
 tion to this, with a praiseworthy readiness, no sooner 
 had he received the letter of Pius V., requesting him to 
 consign Monsignor Pietro Carnesecchi to the Master of 
 the Inquisition, accompanied by a recommendation from 
 the Cardinal Pacheco (who mentioned to Cosimo that 
 he had praised him before the Pope for two things, 
 viz. that there was no prince in all Christendom more 
 zealous for the Inquisition than he, and that there was 
 nothing that the Pontiff's pleasure desired that he 
 would not be willing to do), than without any delay, 
 for Carnesecchi was in his own house, nay, even seated 
 at his own dinner-table, he had him arrested and con- 
 signed to the Master. This violation of the duties of 
 hospitality and the ties of friendship, for Carnesecchi 
 had always been well disposed towards the house of the 
 Medicis, and had long served Clement VII. as protho- 
 notary, and Cosimo as secretary in Venice this sacrifice 
 of a man celebrated for his goodness and learning by 
 Sadoleto, by Bembo, by Mureto, and by Manuzio, al- 
 though Ammirato, eager to depreciate the importance 
 of the man, calls him not an ignorant person this sacri- 
 fice, I say, deserved a proportionate reward, which, if 
 we do not find openly promised, is clearly enough hint- 
 ed at in the following words from the letter of June 
 19th, 1566, from Cardinal Pacheco to Cosimo: "Be 
 then assured, that the good relation which your Excel- 
 lency will hold with the Pope during this pontificate,
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 63 
 
 will in a great measure depend upon this." In fact, 
 Pietro Camesecchi was decapitated and burned as an 
 heretic on the 3d of October, 1567 ; and Cosimo was, by 
 sanction of the Pope, crowned Grand Duke, with the 
 privilege of wearing the royal crown, on the 4th of 
 March, 1569. Camesecchi suffered death with wonder- 
 ful constancy, even with some ostentation of fortitude, 
 for he dressed himself in his choicest garments and 
 white gloves ; but was Cosimo equally tranquil, when 
 he closed his eyes in " that sleep which knows no wak- 
 ing ? 
 
 Notwithstanding these facts, known then by what 
 has been before mentioned, and at the present day by 
 being printed in history, I, for my part, would forgive 
 the magnificent Knight Salviati for praising Cosimo and 
 lauding to the skies his mercy, his valor, his prowess, 
 and clemency, placing him before Augustus, since the 
 latter had to use proscription, while the former had 
 not ; although Cosimo himself was contented to resem- 
 ble Augustus, under whose constellation, which was 
 Capricornus, his astrologer Don Basilic assured him 
 that he was born ; but a fault for which neither I nor 
 any one else can pardon Salviati is the following sen- 
 tence, which, since I shudder to put my hands upon it, 
 I shall report as it is written : 
 
 " They who refuse the government of their country 
 or republic, when offered to them, have given manifest 
 proof, not only of the cowardice of their minds, but of 
 impiety and arrogance. Of cowardice, I say, failing in 
 courage, and refusing honors and governments, which 
 are very desirable ; of impiety, if, knowing themselves 
 capable, they have denied their services to their coun-
 
 64 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 try ; of arrogance, if, thinking themselves incompetent, 
 they have preferred their own opinion of themselves to 
 the judgment of their country." 
 
 Ah ! Sir Lionardo, what sad reasoning is this ! How 
 sophistical, cunning, and entirely unworthy of a grave 
 man does it sound ! How far did the evil genius of 
 lying flattery carry you! Would it seem honest to 
 you if any one should accept the gifts of a crazy man ? 
 Much more if they are gifts which ought not to be 
 made, and such is the liberty of one's own country, 
 which cannot be alienated, for it is derived from God, 
 and belongs to Him ; it is not peculiar to any, but apper- 
 tains to all generations ; and the present generation, dis- 
 inheriting posterity of it, as an enemy of its own race 
 commits an unlawful act. Is a physician arrogant when 
 he does not neglect the disease of a sick man, but merci- 
 fully cures him ? The people, Avhen wearied of their 
 own dignity, crouch on the ground like the camel, en- 
 treating some one to ride them (even if they are not 
 driven to it, as is generally the case, by treachery or 
 fraud) ; in this condition they can either be cured or not. 
 In the first case they ought to be cured, and then, if the 
 example of Lycurgus seems too hard to follow, one 
 ought to adopt that of Solon, or Andrea Doria, or 
 choose voluntary exile, for a man can ill live as a citizen 
 where he has ruled as a prince ; in the second case, all 
 efforts being of no avail, let him, like Sylla, throw away 
 the battle-axe, and abandon them to the wrath of God. 
 Such at least ought to be the rule of those men whom 
 the world calls great, and who, after having departed 
 from this world, furnish themes for the tongues of orators 
 and the fancy of poets, and remind us of our divine origin.
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salvlati. 65 
 
 To no citizen is it permitted, either by force or by genius, 
 offered or usurped, to take away the h'berty of his coun- 
 try ; morality, affection, religion, especially the Christian 
 religion, all forbid it. Yes, indeed, the Christian religion, 
 because, rejecting the distinction of St. Thomas as scho- 
 lastic, and proposed rather as an abstract disqxiisition, 
 than as true in practice, between a tyrant imposed upon 
 us by force, and a tyrant imposed voluntarily by our- 
 selves, that act is right, which we can always choose, as 
 Aristotle teaches. Now how can the usurpation of one's 
 country ever be eligible ? As to the usurper, can he 
 or will he consult from time to time the will of the 
 people ? Will he know, or will he wish to know, if the 
 movement that so exalted him was truly spontaneous 
 and universal ? when it will decline or when cease ? As 
 to the people, may it not be a transient hallucination 
 and infirmity of the country, since the country consists 
 in the faithful association of the citizens, to which we 
 consecrate our affection and reverence, and if needed, 
 our property and our lives ; and this removed, the place 
 in which we live cannot be called our country, nor de- 
 serve such sacrifices. If our country is more than a 
 mother to us, who is there that could enslave his own 
 mother ? If a mother were to propose it, she should be 
 treated as an insane person, and not be listened to ; and 
 if the son were to accept it, he should be abhorred as 
 impious. And mark, that such usurpations are usually 
 surrounded with appearances of free elections ; Julius 
 Cassar himself ordered that in the Lupercalia he should 
 be presented with a crown. Moreover, liberty, next to 
 life, is our most precious possession; now the dearer 
 anything is to us, the less we can presume to make a gift
 
 66 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 of it; and if even it could be alienated, can we look 
 upon liberty as legitimately yielded, if surrendered in a 
 moment of passion, fury, or error? Finally, let us 
 imagine that the country, when in trouble, should call 
 upon a citizen to restore it to peace ; certainly his rule 
 is needed until the object be accomplished. Now, 
 either the citizen is capable of accomplishing the wish 
 of his country or he is not ; if capable, let him fulfil the 
 duty to which he is caUed, and then retire ; if not capa- 
 ble, he fails in his object, and must retire. But I, per- 
 chance^ am endeavoring to demonstrate what does not 
 need demonstration : what presumption, what folly it is, 
 to prove by means of arguments what nature and God 
 have engraven in our hearts ! Lionardo Salviati, writ- 
 ing the above-mentioned sentences, did not perhaps be- 
 lieve them himself; he did it for a show of eloquence, 
 or rather for rhetorical paradox, and he perceived his 
 error, though too late to repair it, and was never happy 
 afterwards, but cursed the hour in which he learned to 
 write prose ; dismayed when the truth was presented to 
 his mind, awe-struck by memories of blood, he begged 
 God, who mercifully listened to his prayer, to shorten a 
 life so ill employed in behalf of the truth and of man- 
 kind, whom, nevertheless, he ardently loved. 
 
 It remains to be seen how high in literature our Sal- 
 viati ought to be ranked, but the nature of this book 
 not allowing it as I could wish, I will do my best to con- 
 tract the whole into a short space. He was a very pro- 
 found scholar, both in the Greek and Latin languages, 
 and an excellent master of the Italian ; he acquired and 
 treasured up a much larger amount of learning than he 
 taught or published ; according to the custom of those
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 67 
 
 literati, whom we can compare to nothing better than a 
 miser's chests ; he composed a great deal of poetry, 
 both grave and gay, which, thank heaven, is at the 
 present day neither known nor published. At the age of 
 twenty he wrote the Dialogue on Friendship, in which 
 he introduces Girolamo Benivieni to speak the praises 
 of friendship to Jacopo Salviati and Piero Ridolfi. The 
 subject might indeed have been an aflecting one, as he 
 feigned that, on account of the loss of his best friend, 
 Pico della Mirandola, a wonderful youth, called the 
 Phoenix of talents, Girolamo had determined to starve 
 himself to death ; but he afterwards came to a wiser de- 
 cision ; he changed his grief into joy, imagining that 
 God had called Pico before his tune, as most deserving 
 to share the rewards of the saints in heaven ; but the 
 soulless words, the pedantic distinctions, the want of 
 imagination and heart excite in us neither pleasure nor 
 pity, and weariness overcomes us before we reach the 
 end. His comedies, " La Spina " and " II Grranchio," 
 are a mixture made from the fragments left by Plautus 
 and Terence, so that it is easy to imagine what they are. 
 The usual old match-making nurses, the usual cheats and 
 blacklegs, credulous old men, impossible incidents, inv 
 probable recognitions, Florentine jests, and heavy lan- 
 guage, so that we wonder how people could take delight 
 in such representations, which at the present day we 
 should hardly dare to impose upon them as a penance. 
 As to his five essays upon a sonnet of Petrarch, we have 
 only to say that they prove rather the extent of our 
 forefathers' wonderful patience, than the great genius of 
 the author. His orations, the funeral ones particularly, 
 are really flowers for the dead. Under the nom de
 
 68 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 plume of Infarinato* he wounded with bitter writings 
 the sorrowful spirit of Torquato Tasso ; but the Jerusa- 
 lem remains, and the writings of Salviati are read by no 
 one ; and this act injures Salviati both as a writer and as 
 a man, if indeed even in this, his blind devotion to the 
 house of the Medicis does not excuse him. He abridged 
 the Decameron of Boccaccio, but posterity laugh at his 
 abridgment, and wish Boccaccio entire. However, he 
 had a great veneration for this eminent author, and 
 wrote three volumes of Advices in regard to the beauty 
 of the language drawn from the Decameron : these 
 volumes may, even in our own day, and perhaps now 
 more than ever, be consulted by the students of our 
 most glorious tongue. The language used by Salviati 
 is pure, but says nothing ; it seems an ornament of a 
 corpse; no ideas, no thought, no imagination; obliged 
 to avoid the great, which is the truth, he was compelled 
 to have recourse to the false, and we can already per- 
 ceive in him the sad dawn of the sixteenth century. In 
 proof of what I say, let the following extract from his 
 Oration for the Coronation of Cosimo I. bear witness; 
 " These walls, most blessed father, and these houses, and 
 these temples, seem to burn with the desire to present 
 themselves before the feet of your Holiness, and this 
 river, and these shores, and these mountains seem to de- 
 sire feet in order to come to you, and these seas, and 
 this heaven, a tongue to speak, and, if unable to tell all 
 that is in their hearts, at least to thank you, and person- 
 ally to acknowledge themselves your debtors for so great 
 a benefit." Abundant words, no eloquence, epithets, 
 
 * All the Academicians of La Crusca took some nom de plume, by 
 which they were always known.
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 69 
 
 adjectives, expletives without number, one period inter- 
 mingled by so many other periods intermingling again 
 among themselves, that the elocution is confused, diffi- 
 cult, entangled, and, above all, painful. Parini thought 
 that he might be read with advantage; I, except the 
 Ad >' ices already mentioned, do not think so ; and Anni- 
 bale Caro, although somewhat inclined to the same opi- 
 nion regarding Salviati, let it be clearly understood that 
 he did not consider his style commendable, for it was 
 exceedingly verbose, wandered uncertainly, was full of 
 meaningless epithets, of long periods, and of many more 
 sentences than were necessary for clearness of expres- 
 sion, which engenders confusion, and wearies the listeners. 
 In short, Sir Lionardo was neither a good citizen nor 
 a powerful writer, and yet a man of excellent natural 
 disposition, affectionate to his friends, and most eager for 
 their welfare. Some will think it impossible that one 
 individual could be the best of men and yet a bad citi- 
 zen ; but if there is any contradiction we see it in nature, 
 and I could mention modern examples if propriety 
 allowed. 
 
 Lionardo, entering the room, first took good care to 
 ascertain that the page had closed the door, then drew 
 a screen before it, and advanced smilingly towards Isa- 
 bella, extending his hand. But Isabella rushed impul- 
 sively towards him, and placing her hand on his shoul- 
 der, and leaning her head upon his breast, exclaimed : 
 
 " O my good and noble Lionardo, you at least have 
 not forgotten your Isabella." 
 
 Lionardo, confused and deeply moved by such an 
 exhibition of feeling, replied :
 
 jo Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " My dear lady Isabella, how or why should I have 
 forgotten you ?" 
 
 They stood thus for a little while, and then seating 
 themselves upon the couch, Isabella, looking in his face, 
 continued : 
 
 " It is so long since we have seen each other ; and 
 you look ill. Lionardo, such excess of study injures 
 you." 
 
 " O Isabella," said Lionardo, " my trouble is here," and 
 he struck his heart, " and I pray God daily that He will 
 call me to His holy peace, and it seems as if He most mer- 
 cifully was beginning to listen to me. But let us not talk 
 of myself I do not come here on my own account, your 
 ladyship. Now I pray you to hear what I have to say, 
 as if I were a brother. So long as I knew you to be, if 
 not happy, at least safe, I kept far from you. I might 
 have wished you to remain happy, because," and here he 
 lowered his voice, " true happiness consists hi a life of 
 virtue ; but my endeavors have been useless, as well as 
 the admonitions of Cosimo, your father, who often 
 warned you, saying ' Isabella, I shall not live for ever.' " 
 
 Isabella, calling up all her womanly pride, interrupted 
 him: 
 
 " Sir Lionardo, what are you saying ? If I am not 
 mistaken you mean to offend me." 
 
 " Isabella, surely I did not come here for that. Do 
 you believe that I take pleasure in saying what I do ? 
 Do you think that I have spent my years so uselessly as 
 to hazard imprudent words or worse ? Why do you 
 repulse me ? Why dissemble with me ? But no mat- 
 ter ; I do not ask the secrets of your heart. If you do 
 not believe me worthy of sharing them, I consent to
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 71 
 
 remain ignorant. But hear what is said of you ; hear 
 the danger and let us provide a remedy." 
 
 " I have done no wrong ; who can accuse me ? What 
 trace" 
 
 Salviati murmured in her ear, " The trace is outside 
 the gate of Prato." 
 
 " Ah !" cried Isabella frightened, and starting up after 
 a few moments as if to go away, added, " At least let 
 him be saved." 
 
 Lionardo, detaining her by her dress, said, " Stay, we 
 can see to it better here." 
 
 Isabella, shaking her head, tossed her hair with both 
 hands from her forehead, as if, grown bold by despair, she 
 wished all her shame to be read there, and murmured 
 
 "Well, I am guilty." 
 
 " Isabella, your life is in danger." 
 
 " Mine ? And by whom ? Has Giordano returned 
 from Rome ?" 
 
 " No. But what has Giordano to do with it ?" 
 
 " And who but he could with justice attempt my life ? 
 Francesco ? Would he punish in another his own sin ? 
 Piero ? So plunged in every kind of vice that the wa- 
 ters of the Arno would not suffice to purify him." 
 
 " Justice ? And do you, a daughter of Cosuno, seek 
 for justice here below ? Francesco hates in others what 
 he indulges in himself. A doubtful rumor has reached 
 his ears that his enemies, rejoicing as the wicked do, 
 despise his family, publishing accusations that are not 
 true, or which, if true, proceed mostly from himself ; 
 and in his dark soul he suspects his Bianca, and wishes 
 to frighten her, that she may never have a single affec- 
 tion except for him."
 
 
 j2 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " Lionardo, you speak dreadful words, which, though I 
 cannot disprove, I yet cannot entirely believe. In fact 
 they seem mostly suspicions ; but there is a great differ- 
 ence between thinking a thing and wishing it, and 
 between wishing and doing it." 
 
 " Yes, truly ; your relations are accustomed to submit 
 their fierce passions to reason ; but I must undertake the 
 thankless office of speaking ill of persons whose reputa- 
 tion is dear to you. Isabella, believe me, upon my soul 
 your life is in danger." 
 
 " Lionardo, you who are so wise must understand only 
 too well how in such important matters man cannot 
 easily be convinced by the belief of others. You have 
 done much, too much perhaps, to permit you to deny 
 me the lesser" 
 
 " It is true ; and I have come here ready to hazard 
 my life. I do not ask discretion for myself, I ask it for 
 you, and for one whom I know you love better than 
 yourself." 
 
 " It is well. Speak." 
 
 *' Yesterday morning early I went to see Don Fran- 
 cesco, who had sent to ask me about some correction of 
 Boccaccio, which I had undertaken by his orders. He 
 'was in his laboratory. I nevertheless caused myself to 
 be announced by a valet, who returned shortly, telling 
 me to go in there, for his Highness would receive me as 
 one of the family unceremoniously in his study. I found 
 Don Francesco very busy over a furnace, examining 
 some substance in a glass vial. As soon as he saw me, 
 he said, ' Good morning and a happy year, cousin Lio- 
 nardo. I am in the midst of an experiment which does 
 not seem to succeed very well. Now I will read your
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 73 
 
 work on the Decameron, which you have corrected to 
 your own liking, letting the beauties remain and taking 
 away whatever offends good taste and religion. What 
 a pity that Giovanni Boccaccio had not good taste ! But 
 is there no danger, Lionardo, that he is utterly lost ? 
 Or is it true that before dying he repented and left the 
 world in the odor of sanctity ?' To which question I 
 replied that the holy Giovanni Colombini, in the life of 
 the holy Pietro dei Petroni, assures us that the holy 
 Pietro, a little while before his departure to a better life, 
 sent Giovacchini Ciani to reprove Boccaccio for his 
 writings and for his bad taste, and at the same time to 
 reveal certain secrets, so buried in his own memory that 
 he was very sure that no one but himself knew of them, 
 which so affected Boccaccio that he bitterly mourned 
 his past errors, and confessing himself before God made 
 a wonderful repentance. ' Thanks,' replied Francesco, 
 ' you have given me great consolation in assuring me 
 that our Giovanni is in a place of safety. Now be kind 
 enough to wait for me a few minutes while I despatch 
 this business. Go into the library, you will find a goodly 
 number of books, besides several new ones.' I entered 
 the library and pretended to read the first book that I 
 took up, but in reality watched the doings of Francesco. 
 He kept blowing the fire and looking at the vial ; then 
 turning to a little vase upon the table and taking from 
 it a pinch of powder, he examined it attentively and 
 said, " I must confess our ancestors knew more than we 
 do, or that they pretended to. The color is there ; the 
 appearance is the same ; but the taste the taste and 
 without doubt there must be arsenic in it. Yet in the 
 notes of my Poggio, and in the Trivigiana Chronicle, I
 
 74 
 
 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 find that the Count de Virtu (by my faith that title 
 seems to fit him well !) poisoned his uncle Bernabo with 
 a poison that seemed precisely like salt, putting it very 
 naturally upon French beans ; but I have not been able 
 to find it. I would give a thousand ducats.' Just then 
 a valet entered and announced the High Sheriff. I know 
 not why, but I began to tremble. I looked around the 
 room to see if there were any outlet, and perceived a 
 door opening upon the courtyard. Just as I was on the 
 point of going out, God inspired me to turn back. I fol- 
 lowed the inspiration, as I have always found it best to do, 
 and began to listen carefully. The Sheriff had entered 
 and was saying, ' The knight Antinori, as your Serene 
 Highness knows, arrived yesterday from Porto Ferraio.' " 
 
 " How !" interrupted Isabella, "the Knight Bernardo 
 in Florence without our knowledge ?" 
 
 " The Knight Antinori is at this moment in his grave, 
 God have mercy upon his soul !" 
 
 " Holy Mother of God ! What do I hear ? Are you 
 sure of it, Lionardo ?" 
 
 " Let me finish. The Sheriff continued : ' We brought 
 him immediately to the Knight Serguidi, who threaten- 
 ed him terribly for the shame brought upon his Prince, 
 warning him, should he find him guilty, that he would 
 leave him to your mercy. But the Knight denied all 
 steadfastly, until Serguidi produced a letter, saying in a 
 menacing tone : " Can you deny this ?" The Knight, as 
 soon as he saw the paper, became as white as a sheet ; 
 perfectly overwhelmed, he raised his hands in entreaty, 
 without uttering a word. " Go," added Serguidi, " you 
 do not deserve pardon." The Knight departed trem- 
 bling, and went mechanically towards his house. I fol-
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 75" 
 
 lowed him with some guards, and amused myself with 
 watching him.' * Your usual habit !' interrupted Fran- 
 cesco ; ' give me the bellows ; go on, I am listening ; 
 tell all, for I take pleasure in it.' And the Sheriff con- 
 tinued : ' He went as if by inspiration, for he went to- 
 wards the palace. When he had readied the gate of 
 Lions, I advanced and said to him : " Sir, be pleased to 
 allow me to serve you as major-domo ; our most noble 
 master has ordered lodgings suitable for you to be pre- 
 pared here." The Knight looked at me as if in a dream,' 
 but let me lead him like a lamb : this morning, before 
 day-break, I entered his prison with the chaplain, and 
 he was sleeping like one enchanted ' 'Was sleep- 
 ing ?' asked Francesco, lifting up his face, which seemed 
 as if stained with blood, from the burning coals. ' He 
 was sleeping.' * He should not have slept.' ' Yet he 
 did sleep.' ' You let him pass his last night in peace. 
 So it may be said that he suffered nothing. And I can- 
 not begin over again. Is it not so ?' The Sheriff gave 
 an affirmative nod with his head, and continued : ' I shook 
 him, and he awoke, and raising himself up into a sit- 
 ting postiire on the bed, asked : " What is it ?" " Rouse 
 yourself for a moment," I replied to him, " and after- 
 wards you may sleep at your ease ; here is a priest ; 
 you have but one hour to live." ' * And what did he 
 say ?' said Francesco. ' He replied : " May God's will 
 be done." ' ' What ! did he say that ?' * He did.' ' But 
 have they no fear of death ?' ' It seems that you have 
 accustomed them to it.' ' In this case, death seems too 
 small a thing ; we will take care in future.' ' He con- 
 fessed in due form, and then asked me for writing mate- 
 rials. I brought him paper, pen, and ink, but he trem-
 
 y6 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 bled so that he could not write a word. Look, your 
 Highness,' and he showed a paper. Francesco, putting 
 down the bellows, took it, and after examining it, said : 
 ' What an odd thing, I can read nothing here.' ' I told 
 you he could not write a word. Then I thought it 
 Avell to observe : " Sir Knight, since I perceive that you 
 are unable to do your duty, allow me to do mine ;" I 
 then handcuffed him, and putting a rope round his neck, 
 hung him according to your command.' * It is well 
 and the Captain Francesco !' ' Oh, the Captain had 
 got wind of it and escaped ; he cannot be found in Flo- 
 rence.' Don Francesco burst into a great passion, his 
 mouth quivered and his eyes sparkled. ' Go, pursue 
 him !' he exclaimed, ' send special couriers, despatch 
 horses to the confines to the confines.' But the She- 
 riff knew not what to do. Meantime the glass vial, 
 from some unknown cause, burst, and some of the frag- 
 ments of the broken glass struck the Sheriff on the face, 
 penetrating into the flesh ; he uttered a cry of pain. 
 Don Francesco then, in a moment, grew thoughtful 
 and silent, except that turning towards the Sheriff, he 
 said coldly : ' Hasten to cure yourself, for the glas* is 
 poisoned.' The Sheriff fled hastily, groaning : ' Oh, my 
 poor wife and children !' If any one at that moment 
 had tried to bleed me, not a drop of blood would have 
 followed the lancet. I felt as if nailed to the spot. I 
 began to commend my soul to God, but by good chance 
 Francesco sank into a seat, leaning his head down, as if 
 buried in profound thought ; and I distinctly heard him 
 mutter more than once to himself: ' Now, we will 
 look after the women, and quickly too ; but Giordano 
 is in Rome, and without his consent it would not be
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 77 
 
 right ; I might take the liberty but no let him think 
 to render an account to whom ? To God to God ! 
 Oh, this God lays claim to so many accounts !' I mean- 
 time, having regained my courage, went softly out by 
 the door that opened into the court-yard, and took 
 refuge under the open vault of heaven, for while in that 
 house I feared every moment that the walls of the 
 accursed place would fall upon us !" 
 
 Isabella seemed petrified by this atrocious recital ; 
 and the unhappy Lionardo, burying his face in his 
 hands, said in a mournful voice : 
 
 " O my God ! I have used my speech, the noblest 
 gift with which Thou hast endowed man, to praise these 
 Medicis ! What will posterity think of me ? May my 
 works be scattered ! May my descendants soon forget 
 them ! And thou, O Lord, w r ho seest my sorrow by 
 my wishing oblivion for the creations of my mind, for 
 which I have spent my health and talents, Thou know- 
 est how truly this prayer comes from my heart." 
 
 Great indeed must have been the grief that saddened 
 the heart of Lionardo Salviati ! 
 
 But soon recalling himself to the present emergency, 
 Salviati turned to Isabella and said : 
 
 " Come, Isabella, courage !" 
 
 "It is not fear that affects me it is horror, it is 
 shuddering dread. Unhappy Eleonora ! so young, so 
 happy, so attached to pleasures and to life ! We must 
 save her, we must warn her." 
 
 " My Lady, remember, it is not your secret ; we will 
 think of saving her afterwards." 
 
 " Well, my only friend, my father, my all ; I intrust 
 myself soul and body in your hands."
 
 78 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " It is well, time presses ; you must write a letter to 
 her Majesty Catherine of France ; she has a noble heart ; 
 bred to misfortunes, she must have learned to help the 
 unfortunate ; and a Medici herself by birth, she will 
 shrink from having her family disgraced by domestic 
 tragedies. Relationship also may do something, and 
 each of these considerations separately, or all combined, 
 seem to me more than enough to excite her royal heart 
 to grant you an asylum, and provide means for your 
 flight. I will undertake the responsibility of a letter 
 reaching her at Paris ; this evening a relation of mine, 
 one of the Corbinelli family, a discreet and prudent 
 young man, sets out for Lyons, and he can either con- 
 sign it to the Lieutenant of the city, or if he does not 
 consider it safe to do so, will for my sake carry it him- 
 self to Paris. As soon as we receive a reply, it will not 
 be difficult to convey you to Leghorn, and when there, 
 you can embark for Genoa, or, better still, for Mar- 
 seilles ; reaching which you may think yourself safe " 
 
 " But Eleonora ? 
 
 " Then we will warn her, and she can either join you, or 
 go to Spain to the Duke d' Alba, or to her brother .the Vice- 
 roy of Naples. But now you must write the letter, for 
 time flies." Isabella began to write ; but although she had 
 a wonderful facility in composition, words now seemed to 
 fail her ; she hesitated and kept beginning anew : many 
 and deep feelings, as may be easily imagined, disturbed 
 her mind. At last the letter was written, and she said : 
 
 " See, Lionardo, if it reads well ; I never in my life 
 composed anything with more difficulty than this letter. 
 Forget that you are the Infarinato, I beg of you " 
 
 " Let us begin.
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 79 
 
 " ' Most honored Queen : one related to you by ties 
 of blood, the only surviving daughter of Cosimo dei 
 Medici, entreats you to save her life. Permit me to 
 be silent as to whether I am innocent or guilty of the 
 crime which my death is intended to expiate; but if 
 guilty, let my youth, the absence of my\ husband, oppor- 
 tunity, the examples set before me, and a woman's heart 
 overflowing with love, plead for me, as one not entirely 
 unworthy of pardon. I have much to fear from the 
 Duke of Bracciano, my husband, and more from my 
 brother Francesco. I confide implicitly in you ; give 
 me that assistance which the urgency of the case de- 
 mands, that it may not be too late. To me, you will 
 preserve life, to your house, fame, and you will perform 
 an act worthy of such a magnanimous Queen, and one 
 for which God will amply reward you. I will foUow 
 whatever course your prudence may dictate, hoping and 
 wishing to spend in some holy convent, devoted to God's 
 service, the remainder of my miserable life, and to ob- 
 tain through His mercy, remission of my sins. 
 
 " ' To Catherine, Queen of France.' " 
 
 " It seems right to me ; copy it, and add that an an- 
 swer should be directed to me." 
 
 "But," added Isabella, looking down and blushing, 
 " shall I abandon Troilo ?" 
 
 "Troilo," answered Lionardo gravely, "knows that the 
 Turks are threatening Christendom ; he must go to Hun- 
 gary to fight the enemies of the faith, and by an honorable 
 death gain God's pardon. But be careful that he knows no- 
 thing of all this ; he will cei*tainly ruin you and himself too." 
 
 Isabella uttered a deep sigh, and with trembling hand
 
 8o Isabella Orsini. 
 
 began to copy the letter. As soon as it was finished, 
 Lionardo burned the first copy and made an envelopewith 
 great care ; he sealed the letter with the Medici arras, and 
 just as he was about to write the direction, he heard a 
 noise as of a body thrown with violence against the wall, 
 and then falling upon the pavement; the door was sudden- 
 ly opened, and Troilo appeared, drawing aside the screen ; 
 standing in the door-way, he exclaimed with anger : 
 
 " One would think that you were weary of life !" 
 
 Lionardo concealed the letter in his bosom as quickly 
 as possible; but not so expeditiously but that Troilo 
 perceived the movement, and advancing a few steps into 
 the room, stopped, and fixing his sinister eyes with an 
 ironical smile upon the Duchess, said : 
 
 " Since you choose to place guards at your door, 1 
 advise your ladyship to select, if not more impertinent 
 that is impossible at least more valiant ones." 
 
 " I thought that, in my own house, the declaration of 
 my will would be sufficient " 
 
 " But you thought wrong, for you see that I have 
 entered." And then laying aside his ironical tone, he 
 added angrily : " What subterfuges, what treasons are 
 these ? You would betray me, Lady Isabella ! But if 
 death is to be met, remember there are two of us. If 
 you are of the Medici race, I am of the Orsini ; and I 
 swear by Heaven that no dog ever bit me, without my 
 being revenged on him. What are you doing, Sir 
 Knight ? What paper is that which you have hidden 
 in your bosom ? Take it out quickly, I must see it." 
 
 " Sir Knight," replied Salviati, in an unruffled voice, 
 *' it is something which does not in the least concern you, 
 and you cannot honorably demand "
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 81 
 
 " We can decide upon that after reading the let- 
 ter." 
 
 " Permit me to decline satisfying you, Sir Knight." 
 
 " Signor Salviati, I am little used to opposition ; give 
 me the letter, it will be better for you." 
 
 " Troilo, if you esteem my favor dear to you, I com- 
 mand you to be silent and depart " 
 
 " Isabella, it is now time for you to cease commanding 
 and begin to obey." 
 
 " Sir Troilo, I assure you upon the faith of an honora- 
 ble Knight, that this does not concern you." 
 
 " Faith ! Perhaps the same with which you sounded 
 the praises of his Highness, Sir Cosimo ! An honorable 
 Knight never enters by stealth the house of another, nor 
 meddles in affairs that do not concern him, nor hatches 
 plots, for if they were not plots, you would not refuse 
 to give an account of them." 
 
 " And who are you, then, Sir Troilo, I pray you " 
 
 " I ? I am he to whom the Duke of Bracciano gave 
 the charge of his wife " 
 
 " And dare you make a right of this charge ? Ah ! 
 Sir Troilo." 
 
 "What do you mean, Salviati? Beware! I am a 
 man capable of cutting out your tongue you know " 
 
 " Troilo, how can you so far forget yourself? You 
 owe him as much respect as if he were my brother." 
 
 " Your brothers are worthy of respect, truly ! The 
 letter, Salviati the letter !" 
 
 " I will never give it to you." 
 
 " Beware, or I will use force " 
 
 " Would you act the ruffian ? Do you not see that 
 I am unarmed ?" 
 
 4*
 
 82 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " So much the better ; I can the more easily accom- 
 plish my wishes. But hud you a sword, it would make no 
 difference ; he who wields the pen, can ill wield the sword." 
 
 " The letter is next my heart," said Salviati, crossing 
 his arms over his breast, " and you shall not have it 
 unless you tear forth both." 
 
 " And I will do it " 
 
 " Madman ! Before touching him, you must pass 
 over my body !" cried Isabella, rushing between Troilo 
 and Lionardo. 
 
 " Back !" exclaimed Troilo, and with one dash of the 
 hand he pushed the Duchess upon the couch. 
 
 " Ah miserable, miserable Isabella ! For what a man 
 have you sacrificed your life !" 
 
 " The letter !" 
 
 " I have told you the only way to obtain it." 
 
 " Your blood be upon your own head." And draw- 
 ing his dagger with his left hand, Troilo sought to stab 
 him. Lionardo did not move a step : intrepid, his arms 
 still folded on his breast, he stood ready to suffer a vio- 
 lence to which, by his personal weakness, as well as by 
 his being unarmed, he could oppose no resistance. 
 Troilo had almost reached him, when the door was 
 hastily thrown open, and Lelio Torelli appeared, much 
 excited, and exclaimed with a loud voice : 
 
 " His Lordship, Duke of Bracciano !" 
 
 This name had the effect of a Medusa's head upon 
 Troilo ; he recoiled, quickly replacing his dagger in its 
 sheath, and endeavoring to compose his ruffled counte- 
 nance; but these two contrary sentiments, anger and 
 self-control, instead of inducing composure, so disorder- 
 ed him that he was fearful to look upon.
 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati. 83 
 
 * 
 Isabella, who was lying terrified upon the couch, 
 
 raised herself as if by electricity, and stood looking 
 intently at the door. 
 
 The knight, Salviati, thinking that not being a mem- 
 ber of the family, he might go out as if nothing had 
 happened, saluting the Duke as he passed, and reserving 
 his compliments for another time, departed without any 
 appearance of haste, and with his usual composure. 
 Passing through the halls and down the staircase, he 
 wondered greatly at neither meeting the Duke, nor 
 seeing in the court-yard nor at the door, any indications 
 of his arrival ; he did not understand what it meant, 
 but did not deem it prudent to go back to discover, 
 thinking that it could be explained at some other time. 
 
 Isabella and Troilo kept their eyes intently fixed 
 upon the door for some moments, expecting to see Sir 
 Paolo Giordano appear ; but finding that they looked in 
 vain, Troilo, overcoming his astonishment the first, asked 
 Lelio : 
 
 " Well, where is the Duke ?" 
 
 Lelio, sure by this time of Salviati's safety, turned 
 with an ingenuous, yet at the same tune mocking look 
 towards Isabella, saying : 
 
 " His Lordship, Duke of Bracciano, sends greeting to 
 your Ladyship, and notifies you, that after despatching 
 a few other affairs at Rome, he depends upon joining 
 your Ladyship towards the middle of the coming month 
 of June." 
 
 And making a low bow, and looking somewhat 
 askance at Troilo, he retired. Troilo, perceiving the 
 trick, clenched his hands and muttered between his teeth : 
 
 " Traitorous dog, you shall pay me for this !"
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOMICIDE. 
 
 FBANZ. Voi volete fanni morire di languors, lo morrd di disperaziono 
 nella eta della speranza, e voi no avrele la colpa . . . Dio mio 1 io cho non ho 
 goccia <li sangue che non sia vostro ! lo, che resplro soltanto per amarvi, e per 
 obbedirvi in tutto .... 
 
 ADELAIDE. Esci dal mio cospetto .... 
 
 FRANZ. Signora ! 
 
 ADELAIDE. Va, accnsami dnnque al tuo signore : 
 
 GOETHE. Goete di Berliehingon. 
 
 FBANZ. Ton wish me to die of anguish. I shall die with despair in the 
 springtime of my hope, and It will be your fault ... Ye gods I I have not a 
 drop of blood which is not yours! I exist only to love and obey you in every- 
 thing . . . 
 
 ADELAIDE. Leave my presence . . . 
 
 FRANZ. My Lady I 
 
 ADELAIDE. Go then, accuse me to your Lord . . . 
 
 MISTRUST had insinuated itself into Isabella's heart, 
 like an asp into a nest. Troilo's cruel words rang in- 
 cessantly in her ears ; she saw his cowardly suspicion, 
 she felt that she might even be betrayed and accused by 
 him ; and gazing into this abyss of crime, she was over- 
 powered by a moral tremor, not unlike the physical 
 shudder which one experiences while looking down an 
 Alpine precipice; she therefore took every means to 
 avoid meeting Troilo, or if she did meet him, was 
 always accompanied by some one. On the other hand, 
 the necessity of keeping Lelio Torelli near her increased,
 
 Homicide. 85 
 
 and the attention of the youth, his devotion, and 
 diligence in pleasing her, could not but make Isabella 
 regard him with singular affection. Destined, as it 
 were, always to be imprudent, she did not consider that 
 the boy was fast approaching manhood, and that at his 
 age the passions overwhelm the soul like a hurricane : 
 she did not fear, she did not even perceive the fatal 
 passion that consumed Lelio. Only instead of kissing 
 him on the forehead as she used when he was a boy, 
 she sometimes smoothed his beautiful hair, and patted 
 him kindly on the cheek, as a mother might caress a 
 dear son ; and let him who now feels the ardor of a first 
 love, or has once felt it, judge if this was not adding 
 fuel to the flame. Almost always absorbed in her own 
 imminent danger, Isabella did not care for, or perhaps 
 notice certain acts of Lelio, that in a more peaceful 
 frame of mind she would easily have understood. 
 When she walked in the garden, for she now rarely left 
 the house, she often became so lost in thought, that in 
 order to avoid the trees or statues, she took Lelio's arm, 
 and as her feelings prompted, would press it more or 
 less, so that her soul was, by these means, transfused 
 into the youth more vividly than by an electric shock, 
 and he gazed upon her with long, passionate looks, and 
 drank deep draughts of the poison that had already 
 irremediably darkened his very life. 
 
 How changed was Torelli's face ! One could hardly 
 have told his age ; his lips were parted and burning like 
 a man consumed with tormenting thirst, his cheeks thin 
 and hollow, and often bathed with perspiration. The 
 fatal passion, planted like a dagger in his heart, had 
 given birth to so many disorders of his nervous system,
 
 86 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 that the slightest emotion would cause him to tremble 
 from head to foot, for many minutes ; his veins were 
 swollen, and at every slight movement his breast would 
 heave as if about to burst ; a continual anxiety tortured 
 him : when any sudden light burst upon him, myriads of 
 sparks or a dizzy mist would veil his eyesight ; he had a 
 painful beating in his temples, his food was distasteful to 
 him, his nights were sleepless, or full of frightful dreams. 
 Such misery could not, and did not last. 
 
 It was the evening of a most beautiful day in June : 
 the last rays of the setting sun bathed half the globe in 
 a clear golden light, and when this light died away five 
 brilliant rays were diffused over the blue canopy of hea- 
 ven, representing to the awakened fancy the hand of the 
 Creator, peacefully extended to bless all nature : the 
 triumphal leaves of the laurel, the pointed myrtle, the 
 dented oak, and all the multiform family of trees seemed 
 so distinctly outlined on this glorious field, that one 
 might almost have counted them: the evening wind 
 stirred the topmost branches, which, swaying to and fro, 
 seemed as if interchanging mysterious words ; the birds, 
 before closing their eyes to sleep, sang, with the sweetest 
 notes that nature teaches, and that nature alone can 
 teach, a hymn to the Lord ; the rivulet, breaking over 
 the stones, did not seem to weep, but to murmur joy- 
 fully in its noisy babbling ; sweet odors arose from the 
 open chalices of the flowers ; with all the powers granted 
 by heaven to created things, the sky, the earth, and the 
 waters seemed vicing with each other in testifying their 
 gratitude towards the Great Father of the universe, and 
 an enchantment sprang from all, and a voice arose, which 
 seemed to say, We are born to love !
 
 Homicide. 87 
 
 Isabella had come out upon the terrace, and sitting 
 there, leaned her arm upon Lelio's shoulder, and sup- 
 ported her face upon her hand ; her eyes uplifted, she 
 seemed a Xiobe, or rather a penitent Magdalen, as the 
 noble imagination of Guido afterwards conceived her. 
 This attitude of prayer, of mute sorrow, and of weary 
 peace was almost unearthly to look upon : misfortune 
 had indeed faded her beauty ; the slow fever that con- 
 sumed her life veiled it in a sad cloud, but still her brow 
 appeared, as ever, of wonderful loveliness beautiful as 
 that of a fallen angel ! 
 
 She gazed upon the heavens, and Lelio upon her, for 
 in the lady's face he saw his heaven ; and thus he re- 
 mained absorbed and motionless as a statue ; his eyes 
 were filled with tears, that flowed abundantly down his 
 cheeks without anguish or any other sensation ; as I 
 have sometimes seen the dew gathered in the hollow of 
 some statue's eyes, so that it seemed to be weeping; 
 then his tears ceased to flow, his eyes became dry and 
 dilated, glittering with an evil light, a tremor like the 
 chill of a fever spread through him ; suddenly, scarce 
 knowing what he did, overcome by a power stronger 
 than himself, he threw his arms round Isabella, and 
 covered her face, neck, and bosom with kisses, with 
 such convulsive madness, such great passion, that in 
 truth it was deserving of pity, for one would have said, 
 This youth pours out his soul in these kisses. 
 
 Isabella, taken for a moment by surprise, resumed the 
 haughtiness of her offended dignity, and more than dig- 
 nity, her royal pride, and trembling herself, but from 
 intense scorn, pushed the young page violently from her, 
 and unlocked her arm from his ; then without a word,
 
 88 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 her eyes sparkling, she walked to her room that opened 
 upon the terrace : Lelio, trance-like, followed her, as if 
 unconscious of what he had done. Isabella quickly ap- 
 proached a table, and took a little silver bell reso- 
 lutely in her hand; then paused suddenly, as if " at 
 war 'twixt will and will not ; " already a milder thought 
 seemed to bloom amid this storm of passion, although 
 anger predominated ; as we sometimes see the fury of 
 the winds striving with the fury of the waves ; but when 
 the wind is calmed, and the glorious light of the sun 
 again shining forth, the roaring of the angry and turbu- 
 lent billows still continues. After some hesitation, the 
 first impulse conquered, and she rang the bell twice, 
 once was not enough ; a valet appeared, to whom the 
 Duchess said : " Send the major-domo." 
 
 The major-domo, after some delay, entered to receive 
 the commands of the Duchess. Don Inigo was a Spani- 
 ard by birth, as faithful and discreet as a good Toledo 
 blade ; he never laughed, beyond what was absolutely 
 necessary ; one hardly heard him speak three words in a 
 month; robust in form, haughty in aspect, bilious in 
 temperament, who knows what ever passed in the mind 
 of such a man ? He was as secret as the grave. 
 
 " My Lady," he said, bowing. 
 
 " Don Inigo, our page, Lelio, has expressed a wish to 
 return to the home of his aged parents, and it does not 
 seem right in us to oppose so natural a desire. His 
 mother, poor woman ! who knows with how many pray- 
 ers she recalls him, and it would seem cruelty to ivfuse 
 her this consolation. She will see her son improved in 
 every kind of accomplishment that is required in a gentle- 
 man ; she will see him honorable, honest, and, above all,
 
 Homicide. 89 
 
 innocent, and may he be the pride of her life. Don 
 Inigo, you will accompany Lelio to Fermo, and say to 
 his parents that he has always been a good and honest 
 page, that he leaves with us the loving memory of a son, 
 that in anything wherein my influence can aid him, it 
 shall be my pleasure to exert it : assure his mother espe- 
 cially that depraved habits have no power over him, that 
 I complain of nothing in the youth, except certain boy- 
 ish faults, too bold, but which time will surely remedy, 
 because they are boyish ones ; nevertheless, I advise her 
 to select from among the young ladies of Fermo, one 
 who, by her beauty, her sweet manners, and tender 
 love, may subdue a spirit of too much ardor, a heart 
 that is not without some passion. You will take with 
 you, Inigo, his white jennet, with all its crimson-velvet 
 trappings, his clothes, and everything that belongs to him, 
 so that nothing of his may remain with us, that we have 
 given him or intend to give. From the wardrobe of 
 the Duke, our husband, select a chain, and a medallion 
 to be affixed to his cap, and put it in his valise ; also a 
 hundred gold sequins, and an ample certificate showing 
 his valued services, which you will sign and seal with 
 our ducal signet. If the youth should not be well, take 
 one of our coaches, and in our name take the post-horses, 
 which will be given you, and set out at any rate. To- 
 morrow's sun must not see you in Florence. Adieu ! " 
 
 She then raised her right hand, and gave the signal 
 with which pride waves humility to depart. But, as if 
 anxkms to soften the harshness of the act, she added : 
 
 " Go, Lelio, we shall ever wish you happiness, and be 
 most glad to hear of your prosperity." 
 
 Don Inigo could not understand the necessity of wast-
 
 90 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 ing so many words upon so small a matter, deeming the 
 word " Go," sufficient ; except what was requisite con- 
 cerning the horse, the sequins, the medallion and chain ; 
 but, before troubling himself with all this conversation, 
 he had resolved not to pay any attention to it. Lelio, 
 with downcast face, his body bent, as if broken by the 
 weight of sorrow that was laid upon him, followed the 
 major-domo like a criminal following the executioner 
 who leads him to death. 
 
 Isabella gazed after him, until the door closed and hid 
 him from her sight, then striking both hands upon her 
 head, exclaimed: 
 
 " Ah, unfortunate woman that I am ! How many are 
 made unhappy for me ! " 
 
 Isabella remained alone in the room, which was her 
 bridal chamber. The room was divided into two parts ; 
 one had three windows looking upon a spacious terrace, 
 and hung with green damask curtains, embroidered with 
 the Medici and Orsini arms ; around the room, at equal 
 distances, were some medallions in bas-relief of marble 
 in large gilded frames, representing portraits of different 
 members of the family ; two doors opposite each other, 
 at the further extremity of the room, had large pilasters 
 of marble, and over each door a triangular cornice, in 
 the centre of which stood a bust made of different kinds 
 of marble, the head being white, the remainder varie- 
 gated, while the door beneath was hung with two cur- 
 tains fringed with gold ; in the corners were two large 
 blue Chinese, or rather Japanese, vases, with large 
 carved heads for handles, and other ornaments of silver, 
 most skilfully worked; placed against the Avails were 
 t\vo ebony cabinets beautifully inlaid with mother of
 
 Homicide. 91 
 
 pearl ; the chairs and benches were also of ebony, covered 
 with green damask ; in the centre of the room stood a 
 table of ebony and silver of the same workmanship as 
 the cabinets. The first section terminated in an arch, 
 which sprung from a cornice supported by columns, 
 the bases and capitals of which were of gilded bronze of 
 the Corinthian order, but the twisted shafts were fluted 
 and girded round with wreaths of bronze myrtle leaves ; 
 the entrance of the alcove was covered by curtains of 
 damask. In this alcove was the bed, of immense size, 
 and loaded, rather than ornamented, with carvings of 
 little cupids, leaves, fruits, and feathers enough to be- 
 wilder one who lay beneath them ; to describe the 
 quantity of furniture, ornaments, and articles of all kinds, 
 would be wearisome ; it is sufficient for us to know, that 
 by the bedside stood a table upon a pedestal two feet 
 high, with the crucifix and the Madonna upon it on one 
 side, and St. John on the other ; this table, by means of 
 certain springs, turned upon hinges fixed in the wall, 
 disclosing a secret door, which led by a winding stair- 
 case to some rooms on the ground floor, little frequented 
 by the servants. 
 
 The shadows of night had rested long upon the earth, 
 before Isabella called her maid and ordered her to light 
 the lamp upon the table, and then to retire. Having 
 asked if she should not assist her in undressing, Isabella 
 answered shortly, "I will do it myself;" and again 
 dismissing her, went to the door and drew the bolt, 
 so that no one could enter. 
 
 A prey to her own thoughts, she began to pace the 
 room, with steps now slow, now rapid : she stopped for 
 a moment and gazed at the lamp. Of singular work-
 
 92 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 manship, it recalled ornaments, men, and times of which 
 we have but an uncertain account ; it was of bronze, and 
 presented in front an elephant's head, from Avhose up- 
 lifted trunk issued the flame ; seen in profile, it was a 
 swan, whose neck leaning on the breast, formed the 
 handle ; the foot was a Medusa's head with the mouth 
 open, through which the oil was poured in ; beneath was 
 another large head, which, with the other parts of the 
 lamp, formed an ingenious whole. Isabella, looking in- 
 tently at it, thought less of the rum of the people to 
 whom it had belonged, than of her mother, who had 
 given it to her, together with many other Etruscan anti- 
 quities found at the excavations made at Castiglione 
 della Pescaia. Eleonora of Toledo was indeed a woman 
 of cruel temperament, proud spirit, and by nature little 
 disposed to pardon ; yet the mother's heart must have 
 been touched to have seen her deserted daughter, now, 
 by the departure of Lelio, entirely deprived of any friend 
 on whom to rely. Isabella endeavored to collect her 
 wandering thoughts, in order to lead them to solve the 
 present difficulty, but, like unbridled horses, they over- 
 came her reasoning powers, and roved hither and thither 
 in a thousand different directions, as her varying emo- 
 tions agitated her brain ; she wearied herself with seek- 
 ing, but her mind lay extended before her, barren of any 
 means of safety, as an African desert appears destitute 
 of any tree or shelter to a caravan. 
 
 Tired of this state of mind she finally moved towards 
 the bed ; she raised the drapery of the alcove, and pa^t-d 
 within, letting it fall behind her : the bed, neat beyond 
 all comparison, had white sheets from the looms of Hol- 
 land, trimmed with Malines lace, and a dimity counter-
 
 Homicide. 
 
 93 
 
 pane embroidered with exquisite skill ; her careful maid 
 had scattered fresh roses and orange blossoms upon it, 
 so that it seemed indeed a nuptial couch. Isabella 
 folded down the sheet, as one does when opening a bed 
 to lie down ; she went no further, however, but stood 
 motionless near it. 
 
 " Behold," she said, after gazing at it for some time, 
 " my nuptial bed is as pure and fresh as on my bridal 
 night ; it is as white, as soft as the breast of a swan ; yet 
 is not the miserable pallet of a beggar less contaminated 
 in the eyes of God than this ? Upon my pillow are two 
 sharp points, and whether I turn to the right or to the 
 left, they pierce my temples ; they are adultery and 
 murder ; for these two thoughts are twin-born, and I 
 know it. Here at the head of the bed, stands a demon, 
 against whom holy water is of no avail ; he flaps his wings, 
 and showers down upon the sleeper feverish dreams and 
 fearful fancies. Yet here I once had nights of heavenly 
 rest ; here I was first honored with the title of mother ; 
 here taking my rest, I have thought that should my 
 sleep be eternal, my soul might hope to be received as a 
 guest hi the celestial mansions. I remember the moment 
 when Giordano led me here from the altar, and pointing 
 to the bed, said : ' My wife, I intrust this bed to you, 
 and with it my honor, and the good name of my house. 
 I, often employed on distant embassies, or in the army, 
 cannot al \vays be by your side to counsel and assist you : 
 assume a manly spirit for the time, and learn to depend 
 upon yourself; know that there is nothing so necessary 
 for yourself, so acceptable to God, so grateful to me, 
 and so honorable to the children that may be born to 
 us, as your chastity, for the virtue of the wife is a crown
 
 94 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 of glory to the husband ; the mother's virtue is the best 
 dowry she can give her daughters, for a gentleman 
 always asks, and with good reason, whose daughter is 
 the woman whom he seeks for wife ; virtue in all women 
 is more precious than beauty, for without virtue and 
 without modesty, there can be no beauty, or it quickly 
 passes away. A lovely face may be praised, but lascivi- 
 ous eyes make it odious with shame and dishonor, pale 
 with grief and wickedness of mind. A beautiful form, 
 a handsome face pleases ; but a bold gesture, a dishonor- 
 able act of incontinence, quickly renders it ugly and 
 vile. Dishonor is hateful to God, and He is a severe 
 judge of unchastity in women: it renders them inlli- 
 mous, scorned, and ill-satisfied throughout their lives. 
 Nevertheless would you fly every appearance of dis- 
 honor, my wife, show yourself virtuous to all, do 
 nothing displeasing to God, to yourself, to me, and to 
 our children, and you shall have praise and gratitude 
 from all.' Should Giordano now come to me, and ask : 
 ' How have you followed my counsels ? How kept 
 your vows ?' Would not my blushes speak for me ? 
 These walls, this furniture, and above all, these holy 
 images would cry with one voice : We are polluted ! 
 We are polluted ! Should I or could I, putting aside 
 all shame, ask him in my turn: 'How have you kept 
 yours ?' The guilt of others, though it may take away 
 their right of accusing, does not therefore excuse one's 
 own guilt; and when a woman flies to the arms of 
 another than her husband, hate for her husband then 
 arises, she cares no longer for her children, and she dis- 
 solves her family ties, which in the husband, compared 
 to the wife, are far less palpable. Besides that, children
 
 Homicide. 95 
 
 of shame in a house are an everlasting mark of disgrace, 
 and they cannot be expelled, at least not without diffi- 
 culty, by law, although they are banished from the heart 
 by hate, give rise in the mind to the wish to put them 
 out of the way, or are regarded as enemies, and perse- 
 cuted by the other children, looked upon as robbers of 
 their substance, punished, degraded, so that the troubled 
 spirit of the mother knows not whether to wish that 
 they should preserve a life so wretched, or whether they 
 had better die. This rarely or never happens in men's 
 faults, which are committed out of the house. The un- 
 faithful wife contaminates the minds of all ; already she 
 has sown the seeds of discord; guilt has engendered 
 crime, and she will reap the penalty of it. Oh ! That 
 I had died before I lost my innocence! Or rather, 
 would that I had never been born ! Isabella, thou art 
 alone ; throw aside thy family pride, put off the haughty 
 look that thy royal birth imposes upon thee in the pre- 
 sence of thy people, and, since misery and tears belong 
 to the wretched, weep now, as thou canst, for thy inno- 
 cence, thy safety, thy children, and thy family, weep a 
 deluge, for perchance this necessity thou feelest for tears 
 is the first token that God in His mercy sends, to show 
 that his anger is softened towards thee !" 
 
 And weeping bitterly she sank on her face upon the 
 bed, uttering the saddest lament that ever woman made 
 in this world. She had lain thus for some time when she 
 thought that she heard a noise of footsteps outside of 
 the alcove. She arose quickly, and lifting the curtain 
 saw, not without some wonder mingled with fear, Lelio 
 Torelli standing before her. Although a fatal fore- 
 boding oppressed her, yet rendered bold by the
 
 96 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 pressing danger, she drew herself up before him, say- 
 ing 
 
 " Wherefore are you come ? What do you seek ?" 
 
 " I come to demand of you my heart which you have 
 broken, my life which you have destroyed, my soul which 
 you have lost." 
 
 "Ah! Lelio, have pity upon me; do not wish to 
 increase my sorrows, for they are already too heavy for 
 me to bear." 
 
 " Have you felt pity for me ? You have broken me 
 like a flower that, carelessly plucked from its stalk in the 
 garden, you scarcely smell and then throw away. Should 
 a Christian's soul be cast aside like a withered rose ? 
 Should a heart that beats but for you be trampled upon 
 like a stone ? No, no ; your cruelty has aroused mine, 
 and I come" 
 
 " For what, madman ?" 
 
 " I come to ask your love and to redeem my former 
 promise. I come to seek the reward of past sufferings." 
 
 " You rave, boy. Of what promise do you speak ? 
 And who has caused you suffering ?" 
 
 "And the kisses, the smiles, the sweet words, the 
 pressure of hands, the soft glances have you forgotten 
 them ? I could not forget them ; they have kindled in 
 my bosom the flame that consumes me. But what are 
 words ? What necessity is there of speaking ? The lip 
 is more powerless than any other part of the body to 
 testify love ; it says one thing alone ; but the face, the 
 eyes, reveal a thousand affections at once ; and it is with 
 all these caresses that you have promised me. How 
 could you, a woman of such great wisdom, believe 
 my weak soul strong enough to resist so much ? Have
 
 Homicide. 97 
 
 pity on me. You ought to feel compassion for a 
 misery that is your own fault. Isabella, for God's sake, 
 a little love, one ray of love to this desperate" 
 
 "What do I hear, Lelio ? Do you not see that I am 
 old enough to be your mother." 
 
 " What is that to me ? Your face is beautiful. When 
 did man ever love with a calendar in his hand ? Of 
 what consequence is time ? All our life is but the twin- 
 kling of an eye. Who knows whether the heavens will 
 cover the earth to-morrow ? At least the present mo- 
 ment this fleeting breath may be comforted with a little 
 love. Have I not deserved it ?" 
 
 " Lelio, do you not know, do you not see that I am a 
 wife ? 
 
 "Did that prevent you from giving yourself to 
 another ? Why make an impediment with me of what 
 did not exist for another ? Will you be chary of your 
 afiection to me when you have lavished it in such abun- 
 dance upon a man unworthy of it ?" 
 
 " Hear me, Lelio. See, I will not be angry with you, 
 but if this is not enough, think of my eternal salvation." 
 
 " And if I should kill myself with my own hands ; if 
 I should be lost through you, do you think that your 
 soul could be saved if it were the cause of my losing 
 mine ?" 
 
 " I have sinned, and I bear the penalty of my sin, and 
 what you now inflict upon me is no less bitter. You see 
 me humbled before you. Where is my pride ? Behold 
 I am a contrite sinner at the feet of my servant. Leave 
 me the virtue of repentance. Our souls, by penitence, 
 can become as pure as baptism makes them." 
 
 " You may repent afterwards ; but now love me." 
 5
 
 98 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " I cannot love you." 
 
 " Then let yourself be loved." 
 
 " What shameless words, what importunities are 
 these ? Go, or I will call the servants." 
 
 "Bewai-e of attempting to do so, Isabella! I am 
 determined to kill myself, and to kill" 
 
 "Holy Mother of God, Lelio, have pity on your 
 mother ; think of your own mother who is expecting 
 you." 
 
 " My mother ! Yes, cruel woman, you feel pity for 
 my mother. You have taken a son from her, and give 
 her back a corpse. I know neither mother, father, nor 
 myself, none; you alone are my life, my blood. Isa- 
 bella, have mercy on Lelio ; I am in your hands. Do 
 you wish me to be a hero ? I will be one. A mur- 
 derer ? I will. Do you ask me to throw myself down 
 from the balcony which I scaled with such difficulty, to 
 come to you ? I swear to do it ; but intoxicate me once 
 with your love ; say that you love me ; one drop, only 
 one drop to this burning lip." 
 
 " Oh ! vengeance of God ! How heavily it strikes 
 me. My heart will break with ngony." 
 
 " Hear, whether or not I deserve your regard. When 
 I saw your love for Troilo I loved and was silent. That 
 was not all. Not to wound you I did not tell you how 
 low you had placed your affections, nor how the unwor- 
 thy man was entangled with vulgar intrigues. For your 
 sake I concealed from the eyes of all his vain boasts. I 
 endeavored no less to veil your own indiscretion. You 
 owe it to me that the report of your intrigue has not 
 reached the Duke's ears. I surrounded you with mys- 
 tery, I watched over you by night and by day. When
 
 Homicide. 99 
 
 Troilo came creeping in the dead of night to your cham- 
 ber, I followed him with noiseless steps. I could have 
 killed him without difficulty, and God knows how often 
 the temptation assailed me ; yet I did not do it, thinking 
 of the grief that you would have felt. Therefore I went 
 with him; I guarded him; I frightened the servants 
 with tales of a midnight ghost, so that none dared to 
 pass through the rooms before daylight ; and I posted 
 myself to watch outside the door, heedless of sleep or 
 cold, to save you from surprise, to which your own 
 imprudence often laid you open. Imagine what I felt 
 when I heard, after a long interview, the tender adieus, 
 sweet kisses, and promises to meet again the next night ! 
 All this I did, and all this I bore for your love ; and I 
 would have suffered still in silence if you had loved him 
 still. But now you know him you know him to be 
 your enemy ; you have more to fear from him than from 
 any one, and you do fear him ; and when I pray you 
 now to love me, to accept me as what you most need, a 
 
 protector, a slave hi short, everything for your" 
 
 " Lelio, my son, be calm ; I, with deep blushes, under- 
 stand the depth of your love ; even after death, I will 
 preserve a memory of you ; you love more than men 
 usually do ; but listen to the prayer of one fallen into a 
 gulf of misery ; listen as if your mother was speaking ; 
 have pity upon me, hear the prayer a dying woman 
 makes you from her inmost heart, for I know that I 
 have not long to live, nor does the knowledge grieve 
 me. Some day you will be glad that you showed me 
 mercy : on your death-bed, when the mind's eye sees 
 life passing away, when the soul pants in doubt whether, 
 in its search, it can discern a hope of salvation, the holy
 
 loo Isabella Orsini. 
 
 deed you now do me, will then shine forth, like the pil- 
 lar of fire and cloud before the Israelites, to unveil to 
 you the path to Heaven. Time will heal this wound ; 
 perhaps God tempts your virtue, to see if it will not 
 come forth victorious, and already prepares a reward 
 equal to your merits ; the angels themselves now guard 
 you. Do not be unworthy of what Heaven promises 
 you. A good and virtuous wife and honored children 
 in this life ; and lasting fame and immortal glory after 
 death." 
 
 " Siren ! Enchantress ! Sorceress ! Who can deny 
 you the gift of imagining or improvising vanities ? Go, 
 your heart is more bronze than is this lamp. Now that 
 you fear falling into the power of others, you speak flat- 
 tering words ; before, in the presence of Inigo, you 
 threatened and scorned, nor do I know whether you are 
 more humble now than you were then insolent. For 
 then you railed at me like a child ; how presumptuously 
 you chid me, as if you had not likewise derived your 
 origin from Adam ; nothing that ever belonged to me, 
 would you consent to keep near you ; you desired to 
 erase me from your memory, and if you could safely, 
 from life ; with the greatest insults you threw the neck- 
 lace of your husband about my neck, like the rope of a 
 criminal, and a handful of money to heal the bleeding 
 wounds of a broken heart. Ah ! Let me silence for once 
 the love that I feel for so mean, so base, so unfeeling a 
 woman. The sight of others' cruelty makes me cruel. 
 "Why do I wait longer ? Why not fly to declare your 
 infamy to the Duke? Why not give myself at least the 
 pleasure of seeing you hurled into the tomb by a disho- 
 nored and bloody death ?"
 
 Homicide. 101 
 
 " Go, accuse me." 
 
 " No, I will not go and accuse you ; I will kill you." 
 
 " Kill me then." . 
 
 " Accuse you ! kill you ! And what good will that 
 do me ? Ah no, Isabella ! Your love, give me your 
 love " 
 
 " Back !" 
 
 " It is impossible ! Impossible ! You must be mine 
 one moment then let death come and hell " 
 
 Thus speaking, he advanced towards Isabella to seize 
 her ; she retreated, and he followed. Isabella, breathless, 
 saw no means of escape ; she tried to commend herself 
 to God, but doubted whether one so unworthy could be 
 heard: she gave herself up for lost. Suddenly, over 
 the shoulder of the Duchess appears a long, glittering 
 blade ; it comes quick as the lightning, and with one 
 cruel thrust penetrates the bosom of Lelio and passes 
 through. He takes one step back, clutching with up- 
 raised hands, like a drowning man, but cannot utter a 
 single word; only a few indistinct mutterings escape 
 him ; the blood, gushing freely and foamingly from the 
 wound, covers the lamp, and extinguishes the light ; in 
 the darkness could be heard the fall of the table, over- 
 turned by the force with which Torelli struck it, and the 
 tottering, the sinkingj and rolling on the floor of the 
 unhappy man. 
 
 A cry burst from Isabella, so full of despairing agony, 
 that it would have drowned any which Lelio could have 
 uttered, if his heart, so horribly cleft in twain, had not 
 deprived him at the same moment both of speech and 
 life ; and she then fell senseless to the floor, so that the 
 spirit seemed to have left her also.
 
 1O2 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Isabella remained insensible for a long time; after- 
 wards, when partially recovered, a voice seemed to reach 
 her ears, a woman's voice, that of a weeping woman, 
 which said : " Give me back my son :" and, as she could 
 not reply, for her tongue refused its utterance, she seem- 
 ed to hear the same voice add : " Be accursed ! The 
 blood of her who has caused blood to be shed shall be 
 shed." Then Lelio seemed to appear before her with a 
 vacant stare, a frightful wound, his face stained, and his 
 hair matted with blood and dust, and fixed himself before 
 her, but spoke not a word ; for although she saw that he 
 tried to move as if to articulate, he only succeeded in 
 giving vent to a labored groan, and gathering within the 
 hollow of his hand the dark blood oozing from his wound 
 he cast it at her like a curse ! Then Isabella recovered, 
 and tried to sit up : at first, she did not dare to unclose 
 her eyes ; but at last, stimulated by courage or fear, 
 she succeeded in opening them. What was this ! She 
 was lying in her own bed ; the table was in the middle 
 of the room, and the bronze lamp was burning, but with 
 a pallid light. She sprang from her bed, took the lamp 
 and fixed her eyes anxiously upon it, but saw no trace 
 of blood in any of its cavities, nor even any trace that it 
 had been washed off and dried, nor did it even sec'iu as 
 if it had been refilled with oil. .With the lamp in her 
 hand, although hesitatingly, she approached the mirror 
 to see if her face were stained with blood, but it was the 
 same as usual ; she examined the table, the floor, but 
 behold, ah 1 was as neat and dry as was wont. She knew 
 not what to think ; she floated in a tempest of fancies, 
 and said to herself: " I have certainly dreamed :" and 
 as we are ever inclined to believe what is most agreeable
 
 Homicide. 103 
 
 and advantageous, so Isabella said again, " It was a 
 dream ; a fearful dream indeed ! Who knows how 
 many miles distant poor Lelio is by this time !" She 
 had almost persuaded her mind to doubt the atrocious 
 event. 
 
 She opened the windows, and knew by the glimmering 
 dawn that the Ave Maria of the morning drew near, 
 and soon after, the chapel beh 1 confirmed this thought ; 
 and when the Ave Maria was ended, and the bell still 
 continued to call to mass, she thought that she would 
 go and pray to God and His Saints that a little comfort 
 might be granted to her, so guilty, it is true, but so im- 
 measurably unhappy. The wretched feel the need of 
 prayer. She arranged her hair with her own hands, 
 dressed herself in a dark dress, and went alone to the 
 neighboring chapel. 
 
 Formerly it was the custom to bury in churches ; we 
 therefore find the pavement covered with tombstones, in 
 the centre of which are round locks, often formed of 
 bronze rings. Upon these tombstones are sculptured 
 the coats of arms in bas-relief (an impediment to the 
 feet), and the statues of the deceased, with arms crossed 
 on their breasts, wrapped in large cloaks, as if they were 
 sleeping, and the inscriptions which record the virtues of 
 those lying beneath ; although they testify oftener to the 
 piety or pride of the living than to the virtues of the 
 dead. 
 
 Isabella had reached one of these tombstones, and 
 there stood motionless, just where the lock opens, to 
 assist at the divine rites, till the moment when the 
 priest utters the mysterious words which have power to 
 bring the God of Heaven down to earth ; then following
 
 104 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 the example of the rest, and more her own impulse, she 
 fell upon her knees, bending low in a reverent posture 
 of humility ; but the ground suddenly shook beneath 
 her, and the fear of falling into the tomb caused her to 
 stretch forth her hands to support herself by some person 
 or object. She felt an arm, and grasped it tightly; 
 somewhat reassured, she looked up through the dark- 
 ness, and recognised Troilo as her supporter, and in a 
 low tone said to him : 
 
 " Alas ! God makes the very earth tremble beneath 
 our sacrilegious feet !" 
 
 " It is nothing ; the tomb was opened to-night. See, 
 the mortar is not yet dry." 
 
 Isabella thrust her hands into her hair, and bit her 
 lips hard to restrain a cry of anguish. Wild with horror, 
 she fled precipitately from the church ; the deep shadows 
 in the chapel sheltering her movements from observa- 
 tion, prevented them from being detected. 
 
 It is said that this dreadful adventure caused part of 
 Isabella's hair to turn white ; which, though I do not 
 find it confirmed in the Chronicles, I will not deny, as it 
 is by no means incredible, for it has happened from 
 much less terrible causes. 
 
 Indeed, when the sentence of death was read to Marie 
 Antoinette, Queen of France, her hair became white ; 
 and this was a greater reason.* When Ludovico Sforza 
 il Moro fell into the power of Louis XII., thinking of 
 the heavy offences done to that king, his hair grew 
 white in the course of a single night ;f the Lord of 
 Andelot was seated, leaning his head upon his hand 
 
 * The Prisoner of Chillon. Byron. f Abrg6 de Mfoeray.
 
 Homicide. 105 
 
 when he received the nev^s of the punishment of his 
 brother commanded by the Duke of Alba, as an accom- 
 plice of the Counts Egmont and Horn ; and all that 
 part of the beard and eyebrow which was touched by 
 his hand, changed color, and looked as if flour had been 
 sprinkled upon it ;* and this seems perhaps an equal 
 reason. Lastly, Guarino, learning that one of the chests 
 of Grecian manuscripts had been lost, which he had 
 collected with such great trouble in Constantinople, to 
 be carried into Italy, was so disheartened, that his hair, 
 from black, turned instantly white,f and this was a 
 lesser motive. But souls are diverse, and mortal events 
 affect differently different minds.J 
 
 * Montaigne, Voyage en Italic, t L 
 
 f Sismondi, Literature of the South, voL i. 
 
 $ Sunt lacrymse rerum, et mentes mortalia tangunt. 
 
 5*
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PASQUINO. 
 
 DON LOPEZ. 
 
 Valgame el ciclo I que es esto 
 Por que pasan mis sentidos ? 
 Alma, que habeis esehnchado ? 
 Ojos, que es lo que habeia visto ? 
 Tan publica es ya mi afrenta 
 Que ha llegado a los oidos 
 Del Rey, que mucho si es fuerza 
 8er los postreros los mios ? 
 Hay hombre mas infelice I 
 CALDEBON DK LA. BABCA. A Secreto Agravio Secreta Venganea. 
 
 Help me, Heaven ! What can It be 
 
 That my maddened senses see ? 
 
 Soul, what sounds thy powers affright ? 
 
 Eyes, what scene hath cursed your sight ? 
 
 Published now is my disgrace, 
 
 Known and read in every place; 
 
 E'en the king hath hear ! my name 
 
 Blasted by the breath of shame, 
 
 Last of all the damning word, 
 
 "Wretched man ! by me Is heard. 
 
 ERNANDO, or Ferdinando del Medici, was an excellent 
 Prince, and of noble mind ; as the fourth son of Cosimo, 
 he was far from the hopes of the throne. He knew not 
 what destiny lay before him, hidden in the future, but 
 he was certain that it was not so distinguished a lot as 
 his great ambition craved, since Francesco was to sue-
 
 Pasquino. 1 07 
 
 ceed his father in the dukedom, Giovanni wore a 
 Cardinal's hat, and Garzia held the Admiralty. This 
 state of inactivity oppressed him so deeply, that he grew 
 sick. When afterwards the accident happened to 
 Cardinal Giovanni and Don Garzia,* the father, Cosimo, 
 very eager to provide for the establishment of his family, 
 exerted his influence in the Court of Rome and obtained 
 the transfer of Giovanni's hat to the head of Ferdi- 
 nando. He was lying sick in bed when, with solemn 
 ceremony, the red hat was presented to him, and so 
 powerful was the action of gratified ambition upon the 
 heart of this youth of fourteen, that from that very day 
 he became convalescent, and very soon regained his 
 usual health. f Being sent to Rome with paternal in- 
 structions and assisted by men skilful in the manage- 
 ment of affairs, not only did he maintain, but succeeded 
 in increasing at that Court, the influence of his house, 
 which was already great. And in truth, the histories 
 of the times relate that Pasquino often published satires, 
 in which was written : Cosmus Medices Pontifex 
 Maximiis.^ Besides the great political skill of Cosimo, 
 his good fortune, in this as hi everything else, availed 
 him no little, for Giovanni Angiolo dei Medici being 
 chosen Pope, although he was in no way related to the 
 
 * The young Cardinal Giovanni dei Medici died suddenly, at 
 Rosignano, a castle of the Maremma, while hunting with his brother, 
 Don Garzia, in 1562. It was said, however, that the Cardinal had 
 been murdered by his brother, for very soon after, Don Garzia him- 
 self died suddenly, and it was reported that he was killed by his 
 father, Cosimo, in order to avenge the Cardinal's death. 
 
 j- Galluzzi, History of the Grand Duchy, voL ii. p. 271. 
 
 \ Galluzzi, ibid., vol. ii., and Ammirato, last voL
 
 io8 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 family of the Medici of Florence, yqt, to please his own 
 vanity, he wished to have it supposed so ; hence, with 
 this object, he lavished incredible favors upon the family 
 of Cosimo, electing Giovanni a Cardinal, yielding to him 
 his own hat, giving him his palace and garden, and 
 promising to regard him as a son ; and so ardent was he 
 in carrying out this idea that he even wrote to Cosimo : 
 " Your concerns we hold as our own, desiring that ours 
 should be also yours, and that we should always give 
 and receive help from each other, and there will always 
 be between us one heart and one mind."* 
 
 Ferdinando increased this ascendency, partly through 
 the sagacity and good fortune of his father, partly by 
 his own generous patronage of the fine arts and letters, 
 although these were then somewhat on the decline, and 
 partly by the bold readiness which he manifested on 
 difficult occasions. Of this a remarkable instance oc- 
 curs in the manuscript memoirs, which I ought not to 
 pass over in silence, namely : going on a certain day, 
 when he was Cardinal, to pay his homage to Pope Pius 
 V., in the act of bowing before him, he showed a strong 
 iron cuirass which he wore under the red dress. The 
 Pope noticing it, said pleasantly to him : " Richard 
 Plantagenet, while warring against his barons, took 
 prisoner a bishop, who, armed with mail, had fought 
 against him more than any of his enemies. The Pope 
 interfering, begged Richard to restore this son of his to 
 liberty; but Plantagenet sent back to the Pope the 
 bishop's cuirass, with the words spoken by the sons of 
 Jacob when they showed him the bloody garment of 
 
 * Galluzzi, ibid, vol. i'.
 
 Pasquino. 109 
 
 Joseph : ' Know now whether this be thy son's coat or 
 no.' Cardinal dei Medici, what dress is that you wear 
 under your cardinal's robe ?" And Ferdinando, strik- 
 ing his breast and making his armor resound, replied 
 proudly : " Most blessed Father, this is the garment 
 suitable to a great prince." 
 
 But more than for all these things is the Cardinal to 
 be praised for the wonderful constancy with which, in 
 spite of the great bitterness which his brother Fran- 
 cesco caused him, he strove always to promote the wel- 
 fare of his family ; and indeed Francesco gave him daily 
 and strong reasons to be dissatisfied with him, by avari- 
 ciously refusing to advance him money on his pensions, 
 of which, on account of his excessive liberality, he was 
 often in need, and by entangling himself more and more 
 with the love of the Venetian courtesan. When the ill- 
 humor of the people reached its climax, on account of 
 the insane conduct of Francesco, who did not blush, 
 while accompanying the funeral of his wife Giovanna, 
 to take off his hat and salute Bianca, as she was looking 
 on from a balcony in the Conti palace,* and who, while 
 the ashes of the royal lady were yet scarcely cold, se- 
 cretly married the woman who had certainly shortened 
 her days, Ferdinando retired to Rome, there to labor 
 for the prosperity and honor of his house. 
 
 "When afterwards destiny willed that he should as- 
 cend the throne of Tuscany, he dismissed the evil coun- 
 sellors of his brother, and set himself earnestly to the 
 task of rendering his subjects happy. We meet with 
 no public building, nor hospital, nor charitable institu- 
 
 * Morbio, History of the Italian Communalities, p. 27.
 
 1 1 o Isabella Orsini. 
 
 tion, with which there is not associated the name of 
 Ferdinando, either as the founder or promoter ; but 
 since it is easier to build a city than to create a senti- 
 ment of nationality, so he was not able to raise the 
 fallen spirits of his people, nor perhaps did he wish to 
 do so, or rather it was an end impossible to be attained 
 by one holding, as he did, the rank of prince, which he 
 would not and could not relinquish. He endeavored, 
 notwithstanding, to relieve Italy from the Spanish yoke, 
 and wrote boldly to the several Italian states, that, lay- 
 ing aside all petty rivalry, they should join him, and 
 vindicate their liberties, but such was the degradation 
 into which they had fallen, that he could not succeed, 
 even in this ; and perhaps all attempts would have been 
 vain, since there happen to nations, as well as to indivi- 
 duals, certain moments of agony in wliich neither mo- 
 tion nor quiet avails, and whilst the latter does not pre- 
 vent death, the former hastens it. It is true, however, 
 as I thought once, and still believe, that neither a God 
 nor a nation can remain in the sepulchre ; Christ re- 
 mained in it only three days, but perchance the days of 
 nations are composed of centuries. And the Italian 
 princes, in Ferdinando's time, consented to live, act, 
 and breathe at the will of Spain ; to her they extended 
 their hands in supplication, on her lips and her looks 
 they hung. Great Heaven ! what miserable beings were 
 those princes, who, like the mendicant asking a penny, 
 begged the liberty to do evil of others, of shaving, as a 
 most witty genius used to say, at second-hand ! How 
 contemptible did they seem, the agents, as one might 
 say, of the right of life and death ! Or rather, negro 
 slave-drivers, with whips in their hands. But enough
 
 Pasquino. ill 
 
 of this; Ferdinando was not able to accomplish his 
 noble object, which was to contract an alliance with 
 France ; for Henri IV. did not act in any degree differ- 
 ently from the nature of the French, who, "when a 
 favor is asked of them, think first what advantage 
 they themselves may derive from it ; when they cannot 
 do you good, they promise it, and when they can, they 
 do it reluctantly or never ;* a people instinctively gree- 
 dy of others' possessions, and to whom theft comes as 
 naturally as breathing."f And strangest of all, the 
 French, fickle in everything, have always shown a sin- 
 gular persistency in this habit, of which even Julius 
 Caesar gives a proof in his histories. The marriage of 
 Maria dei Medici, daughter of Francesco, to Henri IV., 
 brought about at such an enormous cost, and at the 
 expense of so many sacrifices on the part of Ferdinando, 
 was to strengthen the ties of friendship and blood be- 
 tween France and the Medicis, first formed by the mar- 
 riage of Catherine ; but banished from France, expelled 
 from the house and presence of her son, deprived of 
 everything, she perished miserably at Cologne, and the 
 pity of the painter Rubens gave her burial. Mark what 
 human judgment is, in the power of fortune, which go- 
 verns it at will ! 
 
 Such was Ferdinando dei Medici, and it will not dis- 
 please my readers, I hope, that I have described him 
 somewhat at length. Besides, I have noticed that most 
 novel writers expatiate upon the appearance, and so 
 much more upon the dress of their personages, as to 
 
 * Machiavelli, On the Nature of the French. 
 f Mackiavelli, Sketches cm French Affairs.
 
 U2 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 seem a race of tailors ; if you desire to know how Fer- 
 dinando dressed and looked, I refer you to the Arsenal 
 at Leghorn, where you will see his marble statue upon 
 a pedestal around which are bound four bronze slaves ; 
 to Pisa in the Lungarno at the head of the via Santa 
 Maria, where his marble effigy seems desirous to raise 
 fallen Pisa, which being of marble cannot entirely rise, 
 and remains thus, half-erect, half-falling ; and to the 
 square of the Santissima Annunziata, in Florence, where 
 towers pompously his equestrian statue cast of the 
 bronze plundered from the fierce Thracian, as it is 
 writte i under the strap of the saddle. I thought best 
 at this time to describe his nature and habits ; if I was 
 mistaken, or have displeased you, I entreat pardon, and 
 continue my history. 
 
 It was Easter morning. A magnificent cavalcade is- 
 sued from the Medici palace, and rode in state through 
 the streets of Rome. Cardinal Ferdinando was going 
 to pay his respects to the Pope, Gregory XIII. He 
 rode on a white horse, ornamented with crimson velvet, 
 with large tassels of red silk, while the flanks of his 
 steed were almost covered by his cardinal's cloak ; by 
 his side rode Paolo Giordano Orsini, Duke of Brac- 
 ciano, dressed in Spanish costume, upon a fiery Roman 
 horse, and conversing familiarly with him of matters of 
 little importance, as far as could be judged, for the Car- 
 dinal seemed to pay slight attention to him, and only 
 from time to time nodded his head. Behind them 
 came the gay and noisy suite of the Duke, and that of 
 the Cardinal, which was far more splendid ; for he, fol- 
 lowing the promptings of his most generous nature, was 
 accustomed to maintain in state not less than three hun-
 
 Pasquino. 113 
 
 dred gentlemen, courtiers, and men renowned for some 
 talent. To tell the truth, rather than the grave retinue 
 of a Cardinal, it resembled the troops of masqueraders, 
 who in carnival time run merry-making through the 
 town ; they were either talking, or vieing with each 
 other in managing their horses, making them change 
 their pace every moment, caracol, curvet, or trot, and 
 exchanging soft glances, smiles, and sometimes even 
 salutes with the ladies who stood on the balconies. A 
 rose descended through the air, and the ringing laugh- 
 ter of women was heard, as it fell upon the white mane 
 of the Cardinal's horse ; but although people raised 
 their eyes quickly, no one could discern whence it 
 came, for the windows of the houses on both sides of 
 the street were apparently shut. Such license was in 
 some measure attributable to the times, and a little to 
 the easy disposition of the Cardinal, who, young, pow- 
 erful, and bound by no sacred order, was more lenient in 
 love affairs than was becoming to his dignity ; and the 
 courtiers, as we see happening every day, took exces- 
 sive advantage of the laxity of their master, sure that if 
 ever the Cardinal took it into his head to reprove them, 
 he would begin with a severe countenance and end 
 with a pleasant smile. 
 
 After the cavalcade, followed a crowd of the lower 
 classes, who applaud and disapprove equally without 
 reason, and who are always destined, whether cheering 
 or hooting, to be stricken down, until some day, wea- 
 ried of hurraing or hissing, they in their turn take the 
 notion of striking, and then, may God guard us in His 
 holy keeping ! However, they take this notion but sel- 
 dom, and the passage of the powerful through the
 
 114 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 midst of them, is like that of the swallow among the 
 insects of the air it eats and flies. 
 
 Thus passing from street to street, the cortege arrived 
 at the corner of the palace Caracciolo Santo-buono, 
 upon the ruins of which, in modern times, the palace 
 Braschi has been built. There stood at that time Mar- 
 forio and Pasquino. 
 
 "What is Marforio ? and what is Pasquino ? 
 
 Marforio is a recumbent colossal statue of the ocean, 
 found in the Forum of Mars, whence it derives its name. 
 Clement XII. had it transported to the.capitol, and here 
 it shows itself proudly to the passers-by. Pasquino is a 
 plebeian statue. A worthy artisan, before whose shop 
 it was found, gave it the name ; it is mutilated and of 
 doubtful identity ; yet all seem to have agreed in bap- 
 tizing it a torso of Ajax : at any rate, it represents a 
 human being, neither a God nor a demigod; and 
 although its merits far surpass those of Marforio, fortune 
 has treated it very differently, for instead of the honors 
 of the Capitol it came very near being thrown into the 
 Tiber. It was Adrian VI. who raised so bitter a per- 
 secution against it ; and that he did not succeed we must 
 thank the witty courtier who persuaded him, that from 
 that trunk buried in the mud there would arise more 
 voices than from a whole nation of frogs. And behold 
 how the injustice of man is manifested even in the very 
 busts and marbles ; Marforio in the Capitol, like a tri- 
 umphant captain, Pasquino, hardly escaped the Tiber, 
 and having survived so fearful a danger, happy if he be 
 allowed to remain walled in the corner of the Braschi 
 palace. Marforio, according to the custom of the for- 
 tunate, "for whomsoever fortune exalts she first plunges
 
 Pasquino. 115" 
 
 into Lethe,"* no longer remembers past times ; having 
 been made a lord, and splendidly lodged, he has become 
 a courtier and is silent, or if he sometimes speaks, he 
 does it cautiously, and although a colossus of marble, he 
 treads as lightly as if he were walking on eggs ; he 
 almost flatters ; but Pasquino, without head, arms, or 
 legs, exposed to the winds and rain, has retained his 
 sympathy with the people, and always talks, satirizes, 
 and never loses his jest happen what may; after all, 
 worse cannot happen to him than losing his head, arms, 
 and legs. The fair fame of Marforio, however, has been 
 diminished, while Pasquino, on the contrary, has never 
 known any decline of popularity. Marforio is a deserter, 
 but Pasquino threw away his legs so as not to fly ; hence 
 the people have forgotten Marforio and increased their 
 love for Pasquino ten-fold. Marforio in the Capitol, at 
 the extremity of the court of the Capitoline Museum, 
 accompanied by the bronze satyrs found in the Theatre 
 of Pompey, king of the fountain over which he is placed, 
 grows tired, and if an ocean of marble could gape, he 
 would. Pasquino, on the other hand, breathes and lives 
 and sympathizes with the people ; and although headless, 
 speaks % reasons, and reviews accounts better than those 
 who have heads. Indeed, it is not certain that to live in 
 this world there is much need of a head ; witness Pliny, 
 who asserts that there are headless people, called by him 
 JSlemmii, which, if it appeared a marvellous thing at the 
 time of that writer, has long since ceased to astonish us. 
 Pasquino often is a persecuted Nemesis, who hurls a 
 
 * Che fortuna " qualunque estolle, il tuffa prima in Lete." Ariosto, 
 Satires.
 
 il6 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 blow in the dark against the man who drinks the tears 
 of the people, and this blow strikes \ipon his brow more 
 directly than the stone from David's sling ; he is a 
 Nemesis, who, collecting the bitter water that springs 
 in the countries of oppression, pours it into the foaming 
 wine of pride ; he is a Nemesis, who hides worms among 
 the flowers of vicious pleasures ; he is a Nemesis, who 
 makes the cruel fall into the open sepulchre while me- 
 naces yet burn upon his lips ; he mingles darkness with 
 terror, peoples dreams with phantoms, fills pillows with 
 remorse, gives a voice to the clod which conceals the 
 unknown crime, and persecutes life with aifliction, death 
 with despair. But Pasquino's satires spring too often 
 from human perfidy; since there are people to whom 
 nature has said, hate ! as she has said to the eagle, fly ! 
 and the man hates as the eagle flies. O Lord God, win- 
 didst thou create the serpent that poisons, the wild l>r:ist 
 that devours, the upas that kills, and the man that hates ? 
 Behold, the serene heaven is a torment for him, the 
 splendid sun an offence, the limpid lake a mockery, the 
 tranquil mind an insult ; he would wish for the eye of 
 the basilisk, the breath of the pestilence, the bitumen of 
 the asphaltum, the despair of Judas, to sadden the sere- 
 nity of the azure heaven, of the limpid waters, and of the 
 innocent soul. 
 
 Truth is the most brilliant sun in the diadem of God. 
 In the days of creation it should have been suspended 
 as the only luminary in the firmament. Truth ought to 
 issue openly from the lips of men like holy incense from 
 golden censers. The work of darkness ought to be con- 
 summated in darkness. Truth ought never to take the 
 form of falsehood. Why should it ever assume the sem-
 
 Pasquino. 117 
 
 blance of calumny ? The heart of a coward may well 
 become a fit resting-place for a nest of vipers, but never 
 the temple of truth. Truth ought to be preached in the 
 face of day from the lofty places, from the mountain- 
 tops, from the open shores of the sea. Truth ought to 
 be declared before the men who detest it, and before the 
 judges who condemn it as they did the innocent So- 
 crates. Truth has been burned at the stake, and has 
 sprung like a Phoenix from its ashes ; Truth has mounted 
 the scaifold, and returned to live in the severed limbs as 
 the polyp lives again in the broken fragments. Truth 
 has never deceived nor flattered any one, for she has 
 said : " My name is martyrdom on earth and glory in 
 Heaven ; let him who wishes follow me, I am a stern 
 life-companion."* 
 
 " He that hath ears to hear let him hear ;" I return to 
 my story. 
 
 Pasquino, and also Marforio, who had not yet been 
 promoted to the Capitol, appeared on that solemn day 
 in the plenitude of their glory, decked all around with a 
 halo of satires of all colors and dimensions; crowds of 
 people were standing reading them or hearing them 
 read, and the more bitter, satirical, and slanderous the 
 words were, the more fitted to sadden a heart, or to 
 cause despair to an immortal soul, the louder they 
 laughed with every token of joy. 
 
 The cavalcade, seeing from afar such a magnificent 
 shoAv, exulted, and had they not been restrained by 
 
 * Martirio in terra appellasi, 
 Gloria si appella in cielo. 
 
 Beatrice Tenda, by Tedaldi-Fores, a young poet who died in the 
 flower of his youth.
 
 ii8 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 respect would have rushed ahead of the Cardinal ; they 
 closed together, endeavoring to decipher the writings 
 from where they were ; some rose on their stirrups, some 
 shaded their eyes with their hands to read. 
 
 " Oh, he is dressed for a Sunday," said the courtiers ; 
 "Pasquino is really celebrating Easter; we shall hear 
 some good jokes ; materials are not wanting ;" and so 
 on, so that their voices might have been heard a mile 
 distant. 
 
 The Cardinal, passing near the dreaded statues, did 
 not turn his head nor even seem to glance at them. 
 Not so the courtiers, who fell upon it like pigeons in a 
 field of grain, neither minding nor caring if they knocked 
 or trampled on the crowd, who sprang to the right and 
 left cursing and yelling like the frogs when a bull ap- 
 proaches the margin of a pond. Why is it that this 
 careless and noisy young crew are suddenly silent? 
 Imagine a flock of sparrows hovering over the broad top 
 of an oak, and chirping incessantly, fluttering through 
 the'leaves with restless motions ; but if suddenly a falcon 
 appears, soaring in wide circles near the tree, they be- 
 come so silent and still, that they seem as if struck by 
 sudden death, and shrink and fold their wings, and dare 
 not fly from bough to bough, but seek to hide them- 
 selves under the leaves : thus the abashed courtiers con- 
 tinued on their route gravely and in silence. 
 
 Pasquino had poured forth a torrent of malignant sa- 
 tires against the Cardinal, because he was reputed the 
 most fortunate of all the Cardinals. One of the pasqui- 
 nades which was aimed at him ran as follows : Marforio 
 asked Pasquino, " "Which is the mule that Medici rides 
 now ?" And Pasquino answered, " He rides the mule
 
 Pasquino. 1 1 9 
 
 of Farnese." This alluded to the intrigue which, ac- 
 cording to report, Ferdinando had with Clelia, the 
 daughter of Cardinal Farnese. But this could be tole- 
 rated ; those which appeared really infamous reflected 
 upon Francesco, Bianca, Isabella, her husband, Eleonora 
 of Toledo, and Don Piero de Medici, which, as being 
 too shameful, we Avill abstain from reporting. 
 
 The Cardinal had not turned his head ; but, looking 
 askance, he perceived and read those vituperations; 
 advancing his horse a step, he kept the Duke of Brac- 
 ciano so occupied in conversation that the latter was not 
 able to read a word. "When it seemed to him the pro- 
 per time, he called to one of his retinue and gave him 
 some orders in a low voice. Hardly had the cavalcade 
 turned the corner than the officer turned impetuously 
 back, spurring his horse. The crowd had again collected, 
 and were enjoying their brutal pleasure, and praising 
 Pasquino, voting him by acclamation a crown of laurel. 
 Without even saying, " take care," the officer dashed 
 his horse into the midst of the crowd, who ngain cleared 
 the way, and struck right and left with the butt-end of 
 his halberd upon the head, shoulders, or arms of those 
 who were not quick enough to avoid him, and reaching 
 Pasquino he thrust his hand, armed with the iron gaunt- 
 let, with such force against it that it shows the impres- 
 sion to this day ; he made a bundle of all the papers, 
 and carried them off, departing with the same fury with 
 which he had come, without taking the least notice of 
 the crowd, who, as soon as they saw him at a sufficient 
 distance, raised their heads, still like frogs, and vented" 
 their anger in screams and curses, like every brutal 
 rabble ; it ended, however, as it always does, that he who
 
 12O Isabella Orsini. 
 
 received a bruise applied a plaster to it, and he whose 
 head was broken had it bound up. 
 
 The Cardinal, after having paid his homage to his 
 Holiness, returned home by a shorter road, and there 
 closeting himself within his study he wrote a letter to 
 his brother, Francesco, without availing himself of the 
 assistance of his secretary, in which, saying nothing of 
 the insults that were deservedly aimed at both of them, 
 he related those published to the dishonor of their 
 house, on account of the intrigues of Isabella and Eleo- 
 nora of Toledo, and advised him to use all means lie 
 thought best to cause them to behave more modestly. 
 Having written the letter he gave it to a courier, order- 
 ing him to start immediately for Florence, and as he 
 valued his life to put the letter into Francesco's own 
 hands. This epistle reached Francesco only too safely, 
 and the remorse of the Cardinal was inexpressible, when 
 he found that it had caused the mournful events which 
 form the subject of this narrative ; and, in truth, he was 
 wrong, for he ought not to have allowed himself to be 
 overcome by hasty passion, knowing as he did the cruel 
 and fierce nature of his brother, his dissimulation, his 
 readiness to imbrue his hands in blood, and his Spanish 
 education, which led him to consider it a point of honor, 
 both in the husband and in the brother, to punish the 
 guilt of the wife or sister ; and, moreover, that he had 
 grown up at the Court of Philip II., who, on account 
 of his cruel disposition, had been surnamed, even in his 
 own times, the Demon of the South. Enough, fate 
 willed it thus, and perhaps it was not the first time, nor 
 yet the last, that Pasquino had caused blood and tears 
 to be shed.
 
 Pasquino. 121 
 
 Francesco, on the receipt of the letter, read it twice, 
 and placed it carefully in his bosom, and no one could 
 have discovered from his pale and austere face, whether 
 it brought good or bad news ; then turning to his sister 
 and sister-in-law who were conversing together, he said 
 to them : " His Eminence Cardinal Ferdinando is well, 
 and sends his love to you." 
 
 A few days after, he sent back the same courier of 
 the Cardinal to Rome, with a letter, saying : " that he 
 was very grateful for the interest which he took in the 
 welfare of their house, although unfortunately it con- 
 cerned a very disagreeable subject ; begging him to be 
 assured that he would find a remedy for so much scan- 
 dal, and in such a manner that his Eminence should be 
 satisfied ; moreover, as the case deserved grave consi- 
 deration, he entreated him, as he had done in all his 
 other most important affairs, still to favor him with his 
 most prudent counsels." 
 
 Two or three hours after he had despatched this cou- 
 rier, he sent another, ordering him to take off his livery, 
 dress himself as a trader, and thus go incognito to Rome ; 
 when there to present himself to Lord Paolo Giordano 
 Orsini, Duke of Bracciano, to deliver to him personally 
 the letter which he gave him, and then to return imme- 
 diately without even stopping in Rome, for he wished 
 his mission there to remain perfectly secret. The letter 
 ran thus : 
 
 " Our most beloved brother-in-law, Duke of Brac- 
 ciano. On the reception of this, your Excellency will 
 start without delay for Florence, accompanied by only 
 one attendant, or two at the most. You will learn the 
 
 6
 
 122 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 motive of this summons, which is a most urgent one, 
 from our own lips, it being a matter which cannot be 
 intrusted to Avriting ; in the meantime we inform you 
 that this affair, although somewhat concerning us, re- 
 gards particularly yourself, and the honor of your 
 family. It would be best that you should acquaint no 
 one of your departure, more especially the most emi- 
 nent Cardinal Ferdinando, our brother. Travel incog- 
 nito^ studiously avoiding recognition ; calculate your 
 tune so as to reach the Roman gate towards dark, both 
 you and your servants wearing white feathers in your 
 caps. You will find one who will admit both yourself 
 and the attendants without giving names, and we shall 
 await you at the palace. 
 
 " May God keep you in His holy peace, etc." 
 
 The Duke, having read and well considered this let- 
 ter, took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped 
 the perspiration from his forehead: then he began to 
 walk up and down, read the letter once more, and was 
 much disturbed. 
 
 "I sold myself as a slave," he thought to himself, 
 " to these parvenu merchants ! I, a Roman prince ! 
 What lineage is theirs ? From what did they spring ? 
 When honorable barons, knights, and men of great 
 affairs honored my house, their ancestors were not 
 worthy to hold their stirrups. On the reception of 
 this with only one attendant or two studiously 
 avoiding recognition try to enter about dark. Thank 
 Heaven ! I am not your subject order your own ser- 
 vants. I shall not go ; I am determined not to go, and 
 I will not."
 
 Pasquino. 1 23 
 
 And he began to "walk up and down again. In the 
 meantime an inward voice, as if it came from a secret 
 counsellor, humbled him, saying : " But he is your bro- 
 ther-in-law, a crowned prince, who cannot come to see 
 you ; he is very powerful and rich, having great author- 
 ity at the Court of Rome. Besides it concerns you, so 
 that it seems only just that you should go to him, and 
 even thank him if he shows so much interest in your 
 welfare ; add to that, he is educating your son Virgmio 
 at his court, and will provide for him, since you can 
 rely very little on your own fortune, and in your po- 
 verty, in the universal deluge of your debts, who but 
 he can be an ark of safety to you ? O Bracciano ! 
 Bracciano ! I fear that you will become the prey of 
 some fortunate merchant, who after taking your estates 
 will take your title also and thus after having expelled 
 your illustrious race from the castle, will erase your 
 name from the memory of men. Hence it seems profit- 
 able to go, and keep on good terms with this relation 
 of mine, for the love of my debts. Love ! I ought to 
 have said hate; but, blessed Saint Peter, how can I 
 hate debts, since they were my swaddling-clothes when 
 I first came into this world, and will be my winding- 
 sheet when I depart from it ! Bernia wrote an essay 
 on debt ; he did wrong, he should have written an epic 
 poem ! To Florence then Titta ! Saddle three good 
 horses ; we must travel. You and Cecchino Avill go with 
 me ; take ofi" your livery ; put white feathers in your 
 caps, and do not forget the cloaks. It is but a duty 
 to take this poor Cecchino with me ; I brought him 
 away from Florence when he was just married ; and lie 
 would be glad to see his old mother and wile again. I
 
 124 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 think that he would be grateful to me, or at least I ima- 
 gine so, and this thought does me good. These people 
 enjoy more than we do ; they believe in love, and they 
 love and see each other with pleasure, and separate 
 with sorrow but I hardly remember that I have a 
 wife ; indeed, Isabella is a most beautiful woman, of 
 lofty mind, and accomplished genius, and I have seemed 
 truly to care a great deal for ah 1 her merits ! I think 
 that I ought to be very grateful if am not hated at 
 home ; it would be sufficient to be forgotten." 
 
 If I am not mistaken, we may judge in some measure 
 what Paolo Giordano Orsini was by this soliloquy of 
 his : like a pendulum, one side vice, the other virtue, 
 perfectly still and incapable of motion by itself, unless 
 caused to oscillate by some external impulse. Careless, 
 prodigal, easily roused to anger, and as easily appeased ; 
 but, imbued with the spirit of the times in which he 
 lived, more prone to cruelty than to compassion ; and 
 when he was instigated by any one who knew how to 
 incite him, we can imagine no enormity in which he 
 would not be ready to acquiesce. I will not say that 
 he resembled Claudius (who having caused the death of 
 his wife Messalina, sat down to dinner soon after, and 
 inquired, forgetfully, why the Empress did not come*) ; 
 but after his bloody fits of passion, that swayed him at 
 their will, he would be overcome by such oblivion of 
 the crimes which he had committed, that they did not 
 disturb his sleep, nor did he either defer his banquets or 
 forget his balls, but would be as cheerful as if nothing 
 had happened : he was a dissimulator, not by premedi- 
 tation, but by habit, and so much the more dangerous, 
 
 * Suetonius, Life of Claudius.
 
 Pasquino. 125 
 
 as his easy and frank manners gave one an assurance of 
 a sort of natural candor. 
 
 He departed, then, from Rome, and arrived at Flo- 
 rence, where he was received in the manner agreed 
 upon, and was introduced soon after into the palace. 
 
 Francesco was seated at table hi company with Bi- 
 anca, and no sooner did he perceive the Duke, than he 
 rose, courteously extending his hand, and kissed him on 
 both cheeks. After this greeting, the Duke approached 
 Bianca, who did not move, and bowing very low, obse- 
 quiously kissed her hand. 
 
 Francesco, sitting down again, said : 
 
 " Giordano, you must be tired ; but before you go to 
 rest, sit down, I beg of you, and take some refreshment 
 with us ; you see, we are enfamille." 
 
 The Duke, not waiting for another invitation, sat 
 down beside Francesco. 
 
 Never was a better opportunity presented to poet or 
 romancer to display his descriptive powers. Few courts 
 at that time, or perhaps even now, could boast the pos- 
 session of such valuable plate as the Medici ; even more 
 precious from its workmanship than its materials ; silver 
 side-boards, vases, trays, pitchers, basins, cups, flasks, 
 and chandeliers, all wonderful to behold ; but I pass 
 them by, and confine myself to that which is better 
 suited to my subject. 
 
 The Duke, although accustomed to Roman profusion, 
 was astonished at the enormous abundance of viands, 
 and observing more carefully, his surprise was increased 
 in considering the variety of the dishes : there were 
 sparrows minced very fine, and kneaded with yelks of 
 eggs and powdered sugar Indian garlic and cresses
 
 126 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 raw onions, German radishes, scallions, and so forth ; 
 besides these there were, preserved in beautiful bottles 
 of thin glass, for seasoning, ginger, black pepper, nut- 
 meg, cloves, and the like ; in the midst stood a pyramid 
 of eggs, and on all sides little stews and dishes of 
 strange appearance ; every variety of iced cheeses, in 
 silver plates, etc. 
 
 As the dishes which he knew were not to his taste, 
 the Duke tried some of those which he did not know, 
 and it was well he did, for they were composed of 
 breasts of grouse, pheasant, partridge, and the like, but 
 so highly seasoned as to burn his palate, and to bring 
 tears to his eyes ; he called to mind Portia, who swal- 
 lowed live coals ; he could not understand how a man 
 could li ve upon such viands ; he asked frequently for 
 drink to moderate the burning, but the drinks which 
 they gave him were so cold, that they made his teeth 
 and head ache ; besides that, there were foaming and 
 sparkling wines, such as make one's brain turn after the 
 second glass. It seemed to him an infernal banquet, 
 and that to get accustomed to such meats and drinks, 
 the Grand Duke and Duchess must have endured more 
 trouble than Mithridates, who could eat and drink any 
 kind of poison, however powerful it might be. In short, 
 his natural appetite was appeased, if not satiated, and 
 he remained watching his brother-in-law, who silently 
 kept gorging himself, with a sort of ravenous hunger, 
 with young onions seasoned with ginger ; then sud- 
 denly leaving the onions, he would take a boiled egg, 
 break it, and pouring into it a spoonful of black pepper, 
 drink it ; then at the onions again ; from time to time 
 he ordered " drink." The valet brought him a basin in
 
 Pasquino. 1 27 
 
 which were a flask full of water and a small glass of 
 wine ; Francesco, pouring nearly all the wine into the 
 basin, filled up the glass with water, and drank it at 
 one gulp. This dissipated habit was not a pleasure, but 
 apparently a labor, for drops of perspiration would roll 
 down from his forehead, his eyes looked heavy, he pant- 
 ed and his face changed color, now turning as red as 
 fire, and now as yellow as the wax candles which were 
 burning before him.* This seemed to the Duke, what 
 it really was, a desire to kill himself, and he thought 
 that it would have been better to have thrown himself 
 from the balconies of his palace. With this idea in his 
 mind he glanced towards Bianca, and their eyes meet- 
 ing, they exchanged a look of intelligence. The Duke 
 had meant : " How is it possible that you, who are so 
 wary a woman, allow him to destroy himself in such a 
 manner ?" And Bianca had replied : " I grieve for it, 
 God knows ; but you are aware what an obstinate man 
 he is ! However, I will try, and you will see." 
 
 When she thought it a good opportunity, with the 
 sweet manner which she knew so well how to assume, 
 she said : 
 
 " Will my lord and husband grant me a favor ?" 
 
 " Speak." 
 
 " Would you, for my sake, be contented with what 
 you have already eaten of this raw food, for I am afraid 
 that it will hurt you ?" 
 
 " Bianca, I have told you once before, and do not 
 wish to have to tell you a third tune, that in my own 
 
 * Candles of yellow wax were used at court until the time of the 
 Grand Duke Ferdinand I. : he changed them to white, as we learn 
 from a letter by SoderinL
 
 128 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 house and in my own state, as well in the most insigni- 
 ficant as in the most important matters, I wish to be 
 absolute Lord and master " 
 
 " Nor do I wish to question your power, for, on the 
 contrary, I consider myself only too much honored in 
 being your servant ; but for this once, I beg of you, my 
 love, please to do it for my sake " 
 
 And so saying, she stretched her hand towards the 
 plate to take it away from hun. Francesco, maddened, 
 grasped the arm of Bianca so strongly, that he left on 
 it the blue mark of his fingers, and grinding his teeth 
 like a wild beast, looked fiercely at her for some time ; 
 then, without uttering a word, he slowly opened his 
 hand. Bianca drew back her arm, not daring even to 
 sigh, and repressed two tears which were ready to 
 start ; humbled and confused, she knew not how to 
 hide her shame, spite, and rage, except by crying, 
 " Candia !" 
 
 The attentive valet immediately placed before her the 
 silver basin, with a glass of Candia wine and a flask of 
 water. She, not touching the water, took the glass and 
 hastily drank the contents.* 
 
 * Montaigne, being invited to dinner by the Grand Duke Fran- 
 cesco, observed that he put a great deal of water into his wine, while 
 Bianca drank it almost entirely without : " On porte a boire a ce due 
 et a sa femme dans un bassin od il y a un verre plein de vin descou- 
 vert, et une bouteille do verre pleine d'eau ; ils prennent le verre de 
 vin, et en versent dans le bassin autant qu'il leur semble, et puis le 
 remplissent d'eau eux-memes, et rasseent le verre dans le bassin que 
 leur tient 1'echanson. II mettoit assez d'eau ; ello quasi point. Le 
 vice des Allemands de se servir de verres grands outre mesure est ici 
 au rebours, de lea avoir extraordinairement petits." Voyage, t, ii. 
 p. 59.
 
 Pasquino. 1 29 
 
 It seemed to the Duke as if he were a guest at the 
 table of Domitian, when he caused the coffins to be 
 carried round the table, with the names of the guests 
 inscribed upon them ; he wished himself a thousand 
 miles away ; he thought that he had not felt half so 
 distressed at his mother's funeral. 
 
 Francesco, like a spiteful boy, wanting to show how 
 great his power and independence were, obstinately per- 
 sisted in filling his mouth with onions covered with 
 ginger, drinking peppered eggs and ice-water, until na- 
 ture, as if indignant at being thus maltreated, succumbed, 
 and uttering a deep sigh, he fell back heavily in his chair, 
 with his head drooping on his breast, and his arms hang- 
 ing down, exclaiming : 
 
 " I can stand it no longer !" 
 
 Bianca and Giordano hastened to his assistance, and 
 supported his head ; his mouth was open and distorted, 
 as if he had been struck with apoplexy ; his eyes were 
 staring vacantly, his breast heaving. 
 
 "Call for Doctor Baccio, or Cappelli," said Bianca 
 in great anxiety; "go quick for the love of Hea- 
 ven !" 
 
 But Francesco grumbled : 
 
 " Call no one water ice ice a little air air !" 
 
 They opened all the balcony windows ; brought him 
 water and ice, and he, dipping both his hands into it, 
 applied them to his forehead ; then he poured some elixir 
 into a glass of ice-water, and drinking it, felt somewhat 
 relieved. Bianca, who until then had assisted him with 
 loving care, without saying a word, now ventured to 
 ask gently : 
 
 " Do you wish to go to bed ?" 
 6*
 
 130 Isabella Orsinl. 
 
 " Yes, have it cooled, cool it yourself let no one 
 else enter here." 
 
 And Bianca, with her own hands, filled with ice two 
 silver coolers, and the valet having carried them to the 
 bed-room, she placed them between the sheets, drawing 
 them up and down. 
 
 In about fifteen minutes Francesco, who had remained 
 sitting hi silence, rose suddenly, and said : 
 
 " Let us go." 
 
 Bianca and Giordano supported him, and reaching the 
 bed, he tore, rather than took off his clothes, and laid 
 himself down. The Duke then said very softly : 
 
 " Your Highness, rest yourself; to-morrow we will 
 speak at our leisure " 
 
 " No ; he who has time must not wait for tune ; I 
 feel better. Bianca, retire ; I have to speak to Gior- 
 dano of things which must remain secret between him 
 and me." 
 
 As any observation would only have irritated him, 
 Bianca left the room and the Duke remained. He 
 seated himself near the bed, awaiting his brother-in- 
 law's pleasure to speak to him. Francesco, after having 
 mused for some time, like a man who is thinking how 
 to begin, thus spoke : 
 
 " Giordano, listen to me carefully : it is useless for 
 me to remind you, that belonging as you do to my 
 family, you are as one of us nor need I declare how 
 dear your interests are to me " 
 
 " Your goodness " 
 
 " Do not interrupt me, but listen. Now in bitterness 
 of soul, I have to acquaint you with a deed, the mere 
 thought of which makes the blood rush to my face
 
 Pasquino. 131 
 
 And would that it had remained private, so that if we 
 could not have pardoned, we might at least have con- 
 cealed it : but no, it has become public ; it forms the 
 subject of mockery for my enemies. Giordano, we have 
 become the laughing-stock of the people !" And paus- 
 ing a little, he continued : " The laughing-stock of the 
 people ! You are outraged in me ; I in you. Our house 
 is filled with shame ; Giordano, your wife, my sister, has 
 covered us with disgrace " 
 
 "What! Isabella!" 
 
 " Alas ! yes. And pasquinades and satires are rife 
 touching her infidelity " 
 
 " By Heaven ! who dared ? I will tear his heart out, 
 even if it were in church " 
 
 " And thus confirm, by your revenge, what the insult 
 has not proclaimed publicly. Be a man and curb your 
 passion. The traitor is a relative of yours " 
 
 " Who ?" 
 
 " Troilo." 
 
 " My chosen friend ! He to whom I had intrusted 
 the safe keeping of my honor. Ah !" 
 
 " This man, trampling on the sacred ties of blood, 
 this man has betrayed his benefactor and friend " 
 
 " But are you sure of it ?" 
 
 " Are such things ever said without certainty ?" 
 
 u And how is it possible that I should have been 
 ignorant of it until now I, a miserable, betrayed man ?" 
 
 " The ears of husbands are always the last to hear 
 their own shame. A providence of God !" 
 
 " Francesco, may you not perhaps have been de- 
 ceived ? A prince, however wary, does not see, does 
 not hear everything for himself."
 
 132 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " I see everything." 
 
 This was not true ; for if a prince ever lived who 
 trusted implicitly to wicked counsellors, it was Fran- 
 cesco ; but for this once he was right. 
 
 " Come, then, this deed cannot be helped, but it may 
 be avenged " 
 
 " Be it so." 
 
 " Can any one hear us ?" asked Francesco, raising 
 himself to a sitting i osture upon the bed ; and lifting 
 the silk curtains, he turned his searching eye around 
 the room. " Go and see, Giordano, if the doors are 
 shut close. Bianca may be listening ; I can live no 
 longer with this woman, and yet I cannot do without 
 her. I could swear that this witch has charmed me. 
 Would that I could break the spell I will try " 
 
 " They are all shut." 
 
 " Sit down, come nearer, and let us think of a re- 
 medy ; having maturely considered the subject, it seems 
 to me, that this is the best thing to do." And here, 
 lowering his voice, he began to whisper mysteriously, 
 as if he were reciting his prayers. From time to time 
 a word louder than the rest could be heard, like a drop 
 of water falling from the roof of a cave to the ground, 
 breaking at measured intervals the frightful silence. 
 The Duke did not seem a living being, except by his 
 opening wide his right hand, and then clenching it tightly. 
 Francesco, ceasing his murmuring, looked intently at his 
 brother-in-law, who stood motionless and horror-stricken ; 
 fianlly he spoke, likewise in a subdued voice : 
 
 " You have awakened a hell in my heart. And what 
 shah 1 I say to Virginio, if ever he should ask me : Where 
 is my mother ?"
 
 Pasquino. 133 
 
 " Virginio will never know it ; and even if he did, he 
 would say : He did well. I am educating Virginio." 
 
 " But do we not believe, Francesco, that after death 
 there is yet to be a judgment ?" 
 
 " For those who have no judgment. And we should 
 be the reproach of the living and the dead, if we dared 
 not do what honor imposes upon gentlemen. And 
 what ? While I, silencing the voice of nature, give up 
 to you the life of my sister, can you not tear from your 
 heart a guilty wife ?" 
 
 " She is not the mother of your children. At any 
 rate, I ought not to be convinced by your convictions ; 
 and even if I were willing, I could not. I wish to see 
 for myself " 
 
 " And if you should happen not to see, would she 
 therefore be any less guilty ? Who can save her from 
 suspicion ? Ca3sar did not suffer his wife to be even 
 suspected." 
 
 "But he did not kill her. Leave this affair to me. 
 You must allow r me to use whatever means may seem 
 most suitable " 
 
 " Do so, but cautiously, without giving rise to scan- 
 dal, and let not your revenge bring to light more than 
 has already been made public."* 
 
 Here a knock was heard at the door, and Francesco 
 asked in a threatening tone : 
 
 " Who is there ?" 
 
 " Don Pietro." 
 
 " My brother ! He must not see you, Giordano. 
 
 * Porque dixo la venganza 
 Lo quo la offensa no dixo ? 
 
 Calderon de la Barca.
 
 134 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Go ; take up your abode at the villa San Marco : the 
 key is hanging over that wardrobe ; you will find some 
 one there to receive you. I intrust the secret to you. 
 Go, and when you have discovered the hated truth, keep 
 always in mind that you are a gentleman and a Chris- 
 tian."* 
 
 Giordano was so overwhelmed by his feelings that he 
 could not utter a word ; he kissed the hand of his bro- 
 ther-in-law, and left the room by a door opposite to 
 that at which the knocking had been heard. 
 
 Francesco, having arranged the sheet which covered 
 him, said mildly : 
 
 " Come in, Don Pietro." 
 
 " God keep you in His guard, your Highness." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " I am here at the command of your Highness." 
 
 " And it seems to me high time that you should be 
 here, since three or four summons have been disre- 
 garded." 
 
 " I feared to disturb your grave affairs of state, and 
 your Highness's manufactory of porcelain ;f and then, I 
 think that he who comes in time always comes early, as 
 the proverb says." 
 
 " You ought to remember oftener, Don Pietro, that 
 you are my subject ; and if you cannot pay more regard 
 to the authority of the head of the family, you ought 
 
 * These last words of Francesco were heard when he dismissed the 
 Duke, after the secret colloquy between them. MSS. Capponi and my 
 own. 
 
 f It was one of the chief passions of Francesco to manufacture 
 most elegant porcelain vases, which he then presented to princes and 
 great barons. GaMwzzfs HwL, vol. iii.
 
 Pasquino. 
 
 at least to respect the dignity of the prince. What 
 are you doing? Why do you wander about the 
 room in such a manner ? Sit down, and listen to me 
 quietly." 
 
 " Don Francesco, I came here upon your word, and 
 because I know that Lent does not come in July, so do 
 not kill me Avith a sermon " 
 
 " Sit down ; I did not summon you on my account, 
 but on your own, and for the sake of your reputation 
 and prosperity." 
 
 " Where did you get so much brotherly love all at 
 once ? Did King Sebastian send it to you from Lisbon 
 with the galleys of pepper ?* These tenders of your 
 affection ought to be told differently, for they are too 
 old now." 
 
 "Do I deserve this? Have I not given, and do I 
 not give, continual proofs of loving my blood ?" 
 
 " I do not know about your own, but certainly you 
 do love blood." 
 
 "And then you complain that we do not hold you 
 in favor, and fill the court with complaints, and write 
 to the Cardinal about it. But how can I bear with 
 you ? In truth, flying off, as you are wont, from one 
 thing to another, you have thrown me off the track, 
 and I scarcely remember the reason why I sent for you. 
 And indeed, when you hear it, I expect to see you 
 humbled, and your impertinence changed into miserable 
 dejection." 
 
 * Francesco, with a company of merchants, carried on this com- 
 merce of pepper, and employed his galleys in it. This company had 
 the exclusive privilege of selling it throughout the world. Galluzzfs 
 History.
 
 136 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " My dear brother, I will not deny that you may suc- 
 ceed in tiring me to death, for I feel already half used- 
 up ; but as to making my head turn, I do not think 
 that you can do it." 
 
 " "Well, then, you absolve me from all considera- 
 tion, so that I tell you that you are the most abject, 
 the most degraded, the most infamous knight in all 
 Christendom." 
 
 " Poh ! These are very big words ; go on to deeds." 
 
 " Your wife is an adulteress." 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " What ! You know it, and have not yet revenged 
 yourself?" 
 
 " It is fated that we Medici should never be fortunate 
 in our women." 
 
 " What ? What do you mean ?" cried Francesco, 
 starting up in his bed. " Of what fault can you accuse 
 the Grand Duchess Giovanna !" 
 
 " May God have her in His peace, she was a saint." 
 
 " And Bianca ?" 
 
 " Oh ! Bianca ! Since your marriage, I know not of 
 what to accuse her ; but before " 
 
 " Before, she did not belong to me, and I have no 
 right to investigate her life before she was mine " 
 
 " Eh ! Here is no question about you ; others take 
 this right for you." 
 
 " When we threw upon her our grand-ducal mantle 
 the woman disappeared and the princess rose ; and hav- 
 ing elevated her to our seat, we have regenerated her 
 in a baptism of majesty." 
 
 " Soap does not wash everything, and sometimes the 
 cloth may wear out, but not the spot ; and you must
 
 Pasquino. 137 
 
 have a certain red stain on your hands which all the 
 water of Arno could not wash away and this stain 
 comes from the blood of Bonaventuri " 
 
 " Who can declare that I caused Bonaventuri to be 
 killed ? If my father himself affirmed it, I would say to 
 him : ' You lie in your throat ! I did not order, I did 
 not commit the crime' and I could swear to it." 
 
 " "What with ordering, insinuating, guessing, hinting, 
 tolerating, feigning, and the tike, if this cause had to be 
 tried before worldly judges, the law-gnawing advocates 
 (I mean the bad ones, for to the good ones I bow reve- 
 rentially, and profess myself their most humble servant) 
 would find so many limitations and distinctions, that 
 certainly no one could condemn you ; but before God, 
 one does not appear through lawyers : do you suppose 
 that you can hide this stain with your glove, or pretend 
 that it is a ruby ?" 
 
 " Ungrateful ! Unkind man ! How much did my 
 enemies give you to make me die of rage ? Are these 
 the manners to be used before your lord, who, if he 
 willed, could break you in two tike a reed ? And at the 
 very moment, too, that he is taking your interest to 
 heart, from a desire of saving your reputation. But I 
 ought to have known that it would have been labor 
 lost ; it would be as well to try to wash the Pucci's 
 coat-of-arms."* 
 
 " I beg pardon, your Highness, I had no idea of irri- 
 tating you : I said that merely for talk, being en fa- 
 mille. If any one dared to speak disrespectfully of your 
 Highness in my presence, I swear to you on the word 
 
 * Their escutcheon was a Moor's head.
 
 138 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 of a gentleman, that I would run him through with my 
 sword. Be assured of this, Francesco, you will never 
 have better friends than your brothers, and you never 
 seem to care about it ; you prefer a Serguidi, a Belisario 
 Vinta to them, and in addition to that you allow such 
 men to ill-treat us. Francesco, you complain of us, but in 
 truth you, are not just. Let us throw aside all bitterness." 
 
 " Well, then, I discovered the infamous contaminator 
 of your dignity, and have killed him." 
 
 " Poor knight ! Well, he deserved it, but he was a 
 good fellow 
 
 " And who told you that he was a knight ?" 
 
 " Bernardino Antinori, whom you caused to be hung 
 in the prison of the Bargello ? Who told me ? That 
 is a curious question ! Who told me ? Certainly, some 
 one who knew. Francesco, allow me to say half-a-dozen 
 words in my own way, openly, freely, and as my heart 
 dictates, although you may consider them, as usual, as 
 emanating from a strange brain. We can do what we 
 like, but with one condition, which is this : that we 
 must let people talk. The persons whom we employ hi 
 such affairs are baseborn, and supported by iniquity ; if 
 they could find some one who would throw them a lar- 
 ger crust of bread, they would do to us, what, com- 
 manded by us, they now do to others. Do you hope 
 for fidelity or secresy in such degraded men ? In ta- 
 verns and in their disgraceful orgies, they pour in wine, 
 and pour out words of blood, very often true, but oft- 
 ener a thousand times exaggerated ; and among the 
 common mass of the people who know us little, we find 
 accumulated against us such an enormous treasury of 
 hatred, that it is frightful to look at."
 
 Pasquino. 139 
 
 " Have you finished ?" 
 
 " I will presently. Add to it the curse of the pen. 
 The pen is an infernal invention. I, for my part, think 
 that the devil, falling down from heaven, lost the fea- 
 thers from his wings by a thunderbolt of Saint Michael, 
 and these quills fell upon the earth, and men gathered 
 and sharpened them, and now use them as arrows, poi- 
 soned by that worst of venom ink. Who knows how 
 many traders at this moment, under an item for wool, 
 or an account of a transaction in silk, have registered : 
 
 * Item, to-day, the of the month of A.D. so 
 
 and so, Francesco dei Medici caused the Knight Ber- 
 nardo Antinori to be strangled for his intrigues with 
 Donna Eleonora of Toledo, wife of Don Pietro de 
 Medici !'* And besides the merchants, there are the 
 philosophers, the historians, and other literary men, to 
 whom I always show a pleasant face, since there are 
 no means of putting them out of the world. These 
 we cannot silence ; the best way is to bear with them 
 patiently, and by giving them sometimes flattery, some- 
 times bread, induce them to write according to our 
 pleasure. 
 
 " There lived no such Augustus as the line 
 Of Yirgil honors, gentle, wise, benign : 
 His taste in letters bade a veil be spread 
 Before the blood in vile proscription shed."f 
 
 "We have a good example of this at home, and, not to 
 
 * In fact it is thus registered in a book of mercantile records. 
 f Non fu si savio, ne benigno Augusto, 
 Como la tuba di Yirgilio suona : 
 L'avere avuto in poesia buon gusto 
 La proscrizione ingiusta gli perdona.
 
 140 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 mention Lorenzo the Magnificent, let our father teach 
 us, whose tolerance reached so far as to listen to the 
 reading of that most impertinent history of Benedetto 
 Varchi, that would make anybody go to sleep even 
 standing on his feet. But the worthy Varchi was so 
 pleased by it, that from that moment forward he never 
 let pass an opportunity of extolling Cosimo to the skies, 
 and comparing him to Trajan, to Marcus Aurelius, and 
 to Heaven knows how many others. But I notice that 
 I am in danger of putting you to sleep ; so that it be- 
 longs to you now to speak. We had stopped where ? 
 Ah ! yes, that you had caused the Knight Antinori to 
 be hung." 
 
 Francesco, accustomed by nature and habit to serious 
 conversation, and to go straight to the point, felt his 
 head whirl round in this profusion of words and farrago 
 of thoughts. He was obliged to collect himself some- 
 what, and pausing a few moments, he continued thus : 
 
 " Then, if you know of the infidelity of Donna Eleo- 
 nora, why does she live ?" 
 
 " Because if I should recite the confiteor, I should 
 find that I had more sins than she ; and also because I 
 do not know who could protect me from her uncle the 
 Duke of Alva, and her brother-in-law Toledo, who, be- 
 tween ourselves, are no saints." 
 
 "And are we not powerful enough to defend you 
 against a Viceroy and a Duke ?" 
 
 " What can guard me from the assassin's poniard ?" 
 
 " A good coat of mail, a strong heart, and a careful 
 vigilance." 
 
 " Lorenzino dei Medici took all these and other pre- 
 cautions in Venice "
 
 Pasquino. 141 
 
 " He took them not, and was killed." 
 
 " May be so ; but it is still true, that the best defence 
 consists in never having done wrong to any one." 
 
 " However that may be, such infamy is not to be 
 endured : I would not bear it the honor of our family 
 does not permit it. We must remove this disgrace 
 from us and it shall be removed." 
 
 " What advantage, then, am I to gam ? Is it only 
 for my welfare that you worked, thought, and pro- 
 vided? It is for your own sake, then, that you sent 
 for me ? I shall have to become a murderer for you, 
 and expose myself on your account to the hatred of a 
 most powerful and vindictive family ?" 
 
 " I care so little about their hatred and revenge, that 
 I swear to you on the word of a gentleman, that after 
 having drawn up a process of the guilt of this wicked 
 woman, I will myself send it to King Philip, commu- 
 nicating to him secretly the cause and means of her 
 death.* I take the responsibility upon myself, and 
 
 * "The atrocity," narrates Galluzzi. in his History of the Grand Duchy 
 of Tuscany, " the atrocity of the deed was hidden from the public, and 
 veiled with the report that she had died suddenly of disease of the 
 heart, to which the physicians asserted she had always been subject. 
 It was confided, however, to King Philip through the Florentine 
 ambassador, by means of a private letter, of the 1 6th of July, in the 
 following words : ' Although in the letter mention is made of the 
 accident that happened to Donna Eleonora, nevertheless you will 
 state to His Catholic Majesty, that Don Pietro, our brother, has him- 
 self taken her life on account of her treasonable behavior, unworthy 
 of a lady, and we notified Don Pietro of it through our secretary, and 
 begged him to come here, but he did not come, nor did he allow our 
 secretary to speak to Don Garzia. "\Vo have desired that his Majesty 
 should know the whole truth, and every act of our house, and par-
 
 142 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 promise that, if there should be any necessity, I will 
 declare that this was done by my advice, and even by 
 my express command." 
 
 " Well, then, you desire that I should give up to you 
 the life of Eleonora, and I will do it ; a wife is not 
 worth the trouble of spoiling one's appetite ; but you 
 also, as a good brother, must do me a favor, which will 
 cost you but little, and will do me a great deal of good. 
 I ask you to give me, or lend me never to return 
 forty thousand ducats : my Pisan estates do not yield 
 me a ducat this year ; what with draining, ditching, 
 and the like, it will cost me a fortune " 
 
 " All deep in debt ! All bankrupts ! You, the Car- 
 dinal, and the Duke of Bracciano would sink Peru? 
 Where shall I obtain so much money ?" 
 
 " Eh ! A little pressure on the coffers of the Repub- 
 lic, and all is settled. But you have no need of doing 
 that : public reports tell wonders ; it is said that in 
 gold coin, in bullion, and in precious stones, you have 
 accumulated more than ten millions. If this is true, 
 you are acting injudiciously, for if you withdraw so 
 much money from commerce, you will end by becoming 
 the prince of a desert." 
 
 " Idle, good-for-nothing people ! They do not know 
 what they are talking about !" 
 
 "From public taxes you gain, your expenses not 
 included, three hundred thousand ducats." 
 
 ticularly this, for if we had not removed this disgrace from before us, 
 we should not have thought that we served his Majesty well, to 
 whom, at the first opportunity, we shall send the process whereby he 
 may learn with what just cause Don Pietro acted.' King Philip wa.s 
 pleased with this mark of confidence, etc."
 
 Pasquino. 1 43 
 
 " Who dares to calculate my accounts ?" 
 
 "Hang arithmetic if you can. And besides that, 
 from your commerce in leather, jewels, grain, and pep- 
 per, you gain a fortune " 
 
 " They are all losing concerns. All are injuring my 
 property. I have made up my mind to give up com- 
 merce ; perhaps I have not quite decided yet I may 
 continue in that of pepper; but no more leather, no 
 more grain ; who deals in grain, will die on straw." 
 
 " You can do as you please ; but will you give me 
 forty thousand ducats ?" 
 
 " Good heavens, how can you squander so much 
 money ?" 
 
 " Give it to me, for it is well spent ; I use it in pro- 
 curing friends for you. I expend it among the people, 
 in festivals, in banquets, and in pleasures. The young 
 men get accustomed to splendor and luxury; I ener- 
 vate them ; cow them down ; enfeeble their souls ; take 
 away the dignity of their minds and the strength of 
 their bodies ; I prepare for the seed, and you can plant 
 what you wish." 
 
 " You are ever the same strange mortal. You shall 
 have the forty thousand ducats ; but you must give me 
 a mortgage on your Pisan estates, to restore them by 
 instalments " 
 
 " Oh ! As for that, I will give you as many bonds as 
 you wish." 
 
 " Besides that " 
 
 " Oh dear ! You will begin now with your restric- 
 tions." 
 
 " No ; I only wish you to be ready to get rid of your 
 guilty wife, when and where I shall order you."
 
 144 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " Well, I agree to that. When shall I have the mo- 
 ney ? 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " Good-night, then. I must now go and do a little 
 good. A lady is going to present me to her marriage- 
 able daughter, so that I may give her a little dowry. 
 Then we shall have a party of young fellows at the Cock 
 Tavern, that would put the devil to shame. Then we 
 shall, perhaps, go serenading, and who knows what 
 next ?" 
 
 " Don Pietro ! Don Pietro ! You will never change 
 your habits ; you ought to think that we have to render 
 an account to God of the time wasted so unprofitably. 
 Have on at least a good coat of mail." 
 
 " Until now my coat of mail was a good conscience ; 
 but I see that after this evening I shall have to wear it. 
 May God keep you in His holy guard." And so say- 
 ing, he went away hastily. 
 
 " And you also. Bianca !" And after a little while, 
 he repeated hi a louder tone : " Bianca !" 
 
 Bianca Cappello entered, panting, as if she had come 
 in haste from a distant room. 
 
 " What does my Lord desire ?" 
 
 " Have you heard anything of the conversation that 
 we have had here ? I dismissed you, not for my own 
 sake, for you know that I do not keep any, even the 
 slightest secret of my heart from you, but on their ac- 
 count " 
 
 " Whose ?" 
 
 " Orsini's and Don Pietro's." 
 
 " I was not aware that Don Pietro ^-" 
 
 " Only think ! I have been speaking to them in refer-
 
 Pasquino. 
 
 ence to their wives and the very guilty lives \vhich they 
 lead. I entreated them to try a little salutary strangula- 
 tion, to induce them to reform : did you hear nothing ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 "Truly? come, you must have heard some little thing." 
 
 " Upon my word I did not." 
 
 " Poh ! You are cross now on account of the re- 
 proof I gave you this evening. But what can I do ? I 
 get angry so easily, and afterwards I repent. What I 
 have in my heart, I have on my tongue. I beg your 
 pardon for it." 
 
 " Oh, my Lord !" replied the cunning Venetian, " you 
 statesmen have always so many thoughts, so many dis- 
 quietudes in your heads ; the fault is ours who come to 
 disturb you : but we mean well, and if we mistake, de- 
 serve pity. And indeed, it is not worth while to take 
 pains for me. You took me up, I may say, from the 
 street, and placed me on equal footing with the queens 
 and greatest princesses in all Christendom. My life 
 consists in revering and loving you, and strive as I may, 
 it seems to me as if I never could love you enough." 
 
 " Good Bianca ! Excellent woman ! I feel tired and 
 wish to rest. Give me a glass of cinnamon water. 
 Thanks, Bianca. Now let us recite our prayers; the 
 Litanies will be enough for this evening." 
 
 Bianca took a book covered with crimson velvet, and 
 clasped with gold ; she knelt beside the bed, reciting 
 the Litanies, to which Francesco replied very devoutly : 
 " Ora pro nobis." These being ended, Francesco ut- 
 tered these words : 
 
 " Behold a day is about to end : we count them when 
 they are past, when they are no longer ours ; a day is 
 
 7
 
 146 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 now falling from the hand of time into the immense 
 ocean of eternity. Before, however, it is lost in this 
 abyss, let us look on its last moment, to judge what a 
 life it has led. Go, go in peace, you also, O day of my 
 life ; take your departure boldly, and rejoin your bro- 
 thers, who have preceded you : you are free from tears, 
 you have passed innocently. The accusing angel will 
 not write you in his eternal register. Rather, I may 
 safely say, that if fortune had woven you into the mor- 
 tal web of Titus, he would not have exclaimed : 'I have 
 lost a day !' " 
 
 But who did this man presume to deceive ? God ? 
 Himself? O human heart, how dreadful art thou to 
 look upon ! 
 
 Francesco, with a heap of onions in his body, and two 
 murders on his soul, went to sleep peacefully, " like a 
 laborer in God's vineyard."
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 THE SON. 
 
 Ma il bacio della madre, oh I non ha part, 
 
 E vivon mille affetti in quello affetto. 
 Oh I flgli, figli lagrimati, e carl, 
 
 Chi piil vi inuoveri la bianca cnna ? 
 
 Chi piu vi sjuldera nei vostri lari ? 
 Cl apre 11 labbro la madre, e ad una ad ana 
 
 Ci scioglie le parole, e il primo accento 
 
 E: madre. 
 
 Ispirassioni di BISAZZA da Messina. 
 
 A mother's kiss ! What can with that compare ? 
 
 In that one word a thousand loves reside. 
 O children, objects of deep love and care, 
 
 Who will rock your cradle ? Who will guide 
 Your tottering footsteps to your home on high ? 
 
 It is the mother who our lip unseals, 
 Loosens the lisping accents patiently, 
 
 And still the earliest word our tongue reveals 
 Is " mother I" 
 
 CATHERINE OF FBANCE ! wife of a king, mother of a 
 king, and nevertheless, would the most wretched 
 woman that ever did or ever will live, accept the Em- 
 pire of France with the sorrows of her life, or her fame 
 after death ! Daughter of an abhorred prince, a child, 
 forsaken and alone, she fell into the power of the infu- 
 riated republicans, who wished to avenge in her the 
 crimes of her race, and to expose her upon the walls to
 
 148 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 the artillery of her relations, who certainly would not 
 on that account have abstained from firing ! Not- 
 Avithstanding, bright and cheerful, careless of present 
 danger, she conspired for the grandeur of her house. 
 The heavens bestowed upon her the instinct and capa- 
 city for government. The youthful wife of Henry II., 
 she saw herself neglected for Diane de Poitiers, the now 
 elderly mistress of the king her husband ; and she was 
 silent, and shut deep in her heart the offence to woman, 
 wife, and queen, and remained like a fire, hidden in 
 order to flash out unexpectedly, to dazzle or to terrify 
 the world. The mother of Francis II., she saw pre- 
 ferred to her experience and gravity, the frivolities of 
 Marie Stuart, the almost infant wife of a child king ; and 
 she was silent, and with a smile upon her lips flattered 
 the follies of the royal children, while she saw gathering 
 over their heads the whirlwind fatal to the lilies of 
 France. At last behold her the true Queen, she rules. 
 Like Niobe, she protects with her own mantle the head 
 of a royal child ; doubt not, she will defend it more suc- 
 cessfully against the fury of factions than the ancient 
 Niobe could hers, against the arrows of Latona's chil- 
 di - en. What did the kingdom appear ? What the King ? 
 Charles IX. was a bird a bird of ill-omen if you will 
 for whom a falcon and a vulture both stretched forth 
 their talons. The Guises declared themselves his pro- 
 tectors; but can you imagine a king who needs the 
 protection of his subjects ? The Huguenots also wished 
 to protect him as a master the slave ; and each of these 
 parties was more powerful than Catherine. The former 
 called themselves the friends of religion and the throne, 
 and committed acts, to avoid the sight of which religion
 
 The Son. 149 
 
 would have wished herself blind ; friends of the throne, 
 they composed a genealogy, which made them the 
 descendants of Charlemagne, to expel the Capetians 
 from the kingdom, as Capet had expelled the Carlo- 
 vingians ; finally they became demagogues and were 
 extinguished. The latter, hostile to the Catholic rites, 
 consented that Henry IV. should win Paris by a mass ;* 
 hostile to the throne, they ended by giving a king to 
 France. It was not then for the king, but for the king- 
 dom that they fought. Catherine had to fear, not only 
 for her crown but for her life ; laying aside the royal 
 robes, she and her sons expected the mantle of sod that 
 is assigned to the dead. Cruel inheritance prepared by 
 the snares of Louis XI., the misfortunes of Louis XII., 
 the follies of Francis I., and made more perilous by the 
 doctrines of Luther and the other sectarians who fol- 
 lowed him. The equilibrium could not then, as now, be 
 maintained by gold freely spent, and votes thrown into 
 an urn; there a river of blood was required; there, 
 instead of votes, heads, to be cast into the urn of des- 
 tiny ; and Catherine accepted that inheritance with all 
 its consequences ah 1 ! Truly, these are not such vir- 
 tues as belong to women, nor yet to men ; but the 
 beings appointed by Providence to govern nations in 
 such emergencies hardly belong to human nature ; souls 
 of bronze, created where the thunderbolt, the hurricane, 
 and the other scourges of God arise. Catherine saved 
 the kingdom of France from being rent to atoms in the 
 sternest strife that she has ever suffered before or since. 
 
 * When reproached for so easily changing his religion, Henry IV. 
 is said to have replied : " Paris vaut bien une messe."
 
 150 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Louis XI. is praised, because, by cutting off the heads of 
 the hydra of the feudal system, he laid the foundation 
 for the greatness of the kingdom ; and applauding the 
 end, the means are disregarded. The Cardinal Richelieu 
 is praised because he reduced the barons finally to gilded 
 slaves of the Court. The Conventionalists are also 
 praised, because they wrote in the blood of the Giron- 
 dists that the Republic was one and indivisible. But 
 leaving out these last, were the first as wise as the world 
 considers them? Carried away by the ardor of the 
 undertaking, they strained every nerve to throw down 
 a wall, ignorant of what it concealed ; behind that wall, 
 when broken down, they found a wild beast with sharp 
 teeth, fiery eyes, eager to rend in pieces, greedy of spoil, 
 famished with want, thirsting for blood in short, the 
 goaded people. The two hostile principles, without any 
 intermediate one, which disjoined or moderated them, 
 rushed upon each other one day and the second devoured 
 the first ; but no sooner was it swallowed than it revived 
 in its own bosom, and from that moment the devourer has 
 lam sick, and will lie how long ?* The destinies of the 
 world are held hidden in the hand of God. But it seems 
 to me a strange thing to think that Louis XI. and 
 
 * This figure needs a word of explanation for foreign readers. The 
 two opposing principles are monarchy and democracy ; the intervening 
 wall represents the nobility, which was virtually destroyed when the 
 power of the barons was taken away, thus bringing the monarch and 
 the people, as it were, face to face. The devouring of the first of these 
 principles by the second alludes to the decapitation of Louis XVI., but 
 monarchy, though destroyed, revived again in the person of Napoleon, 
 a man of the people, and may thus be said to have caused sickness 
 and weakness in that principle from which it sprang. Translator.
 
 The Son. 151 
 
 Richelieu, the most despotic of rulers, should have been 
 the fathers of popular revolutions. Catherine dei Me- 
 dici, a woman with baby kings in her arms, with power 
 weaker than theirs, indeed without power, did much 
 more for France than they ; events did not allow her to 
 be milder, nor was she more cruel than the manners of 
 her times, and I should like to be told if Louis XI., if 
 Richelieu, if Francis, if Henry, if Guise, if Coligny him- 
 self were any better than she. And, nevertheless, the 
 memory of Catherine dei Medici is held in perpetual 
 infamy in France ; not a generation but curses her in 
 passing, and imprecates heavily upon her head the 
 marble of the tomb and the vengeance of God! It 
 would seem almost incredible if it were not true, that 
 she, a queen, buried in a royal tomb, with the crown and 
 vesture of royalty, had not a single mouth a mouth 
 however bribed to pronounce a venal eulogy over her 
 coffin. Three days after her death the preacher, Lin- 
 cestre, thus spoke 9f her from the pulpit to his hearers : 
 " The Queen-mother is dead, who, living, did much good 
 and much evil, and, as I believe, more evil than good. 
 And now a difficulty presents itself, which is to know 
 whether the Catholic church ought to pray for one whose 
 life was so wicked, and who so often upheld heresy, 
 although they say that latterly she was on our side, and 
 did not consent to the death of our princes. Therefore, 
 I tell you, that if you would wish to recite a pater or an 
 ave for her, do it ; let it go for what it is worth ; I leave 
 it to your own option." 
 
 It is enough : she appeals from the judgment of men 
 to that of Him who cannot err. Meanwhile, as for this 
 earthly judgment, it is well to think that it is borne
 
 152 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 by those whose powers of judging may well be doubted, 
 and that Catherine, as an Italian, ought not to expect 
 justice from a presumptuous people, once only great, 
 when a lofty Italian soul* shed over them the influ- 
 ences of his genius. 
 
 Catherine dei Medici, Queen of France, desirous of 
 saving from shame the family from which she rose, had 
 answered Donna Isabella's letter, appearing very will- 
 ing to give her shelter, but advising and entreating her, 
 with all speed, to put her design into execution ; she 
 wrote, that she had ordered persons to meet her at Ge- 
 noa, accompany her to Marseilles, and then conduct her 
 with a strong escort to Paris, where she would take 
 care to place her in safety from assassins and daggers. 
 The Knight Lionardo Salviati, immediately upon the 
 receipt of the letter, to avoid suspicion and fatal acci- 
 dents, sent it as carefully and secretly as possible to 
 Isabella by Don Silvano Razzi, a monk of Camaldole, 
 and a very intimate friend of his. But Isabella had of 
 late lost her natural firmness, and becoming discouraged 
 and feeling a presentiment of her fate, allowed herself 
 to be entirely overcome by dejection. The manuscripts 
 which remain to us concerning those wretched events, 
 speak as follows : " But the scheme did not succeed, for 
 it was not the will of the good God, her affairs being 
 too well known, so that now she could no longer dis- 
 guise her intentions, and all knew her thoughts." In 
 short, whether she could not or would not, the fact is 
 that some time before the reply of Catherine Queen of 
 France reached her, she had dismissed from her mind 
 all idea of flight. 
 
 * Napoleon.
 
 The Son. 153 
 
 The Duchess had a foster sister; she had received 
 the same nourishment as a daughter of the people, and 
 happy would she have been, if, with the milk, she had 
 imbibed the domestic virtues of her good nurse ! Gift- 
 ed with an excellent disposition, Isabella always wished 
 to retain near her, her foster sister, whose name was 
 Maria, and loved her passionately. It seemed as if she 
 could not live without her ; to her she confided the 
 most hidden secrets of her heart, so long as they were 
 such as she could reveal without shame ; but when they 
 ceased to be such, she began to shroud herself in silence 
 and circumlocution ; much more, since having once tried 
 to inform Maria of her feelings, which, although not 
 exactly guilty, had begun to deviate from the right 
 path, she was met with such an admonition as took from 
 her all wish to continue. Maria, although an excellent 
 woman, was not very quick at observing, yet she per- 
 ceived only too Avell that her lady's heart was with- 
 drawn from her, and also that she could not regain it 
 except by complying with her foolish wishes, and thus, 
 as it were, becoming her accomplice. This, neither her 
 own religion would permit, nor the faith she had always 
 had in her mistress ; and since she could devise no means 
 of reuniting herself to her as she had been, she resolved 
 to leave her as she was. The poor girl, in order not to 
 separate from Isabella, had refused advantageous offers 
 of marriage, and to her praise it must be added, had 
 even subdued an affection that she had felt arising in 
 her heart. The first roses of her youth had somewhat 
 faded, but living modestly and " avoiding even the ap- 
 pearance of evil," she still looked young and hand- 
 some. While she was in this state of mind, fortune 
 
 7*
 
 154 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 threw in her way a young man named Cecchino del 
 Bandieraio, whose person pleased her, and even more 
 the devoted filial affection which he manifested for his 
 aged mother. Maria, the sole survivor of her family, 
 had to ask leave of no one except her mistress, who was 
 then so much under the influence of her passion, that 
 she permitted without sorrow the departure of Maria, 
 who might be considered the last anchor of her salva- 
 tion ; she even saw her go with pleasure, as her pre- 
 sence had become a kind of restraint upon her. But as 
 her truly royal disposition prompted, she was liberal in 
 her gifts ; bestowing upon her in abundance clothes, 
 furniture, jewels, money, and kind words, and entreaties 
 that in case of any need, she would come to her. When 
 the moment of parting arrived, however, the old ten- 
 derness revived, and she embraced her so closely, that 
 it seemed as if she could not let her go, and wept bit- 
 terly ; but an ardent kiss of love quickly dried her tears, 
 and Maria was soon forgotten. 
 
 But Maria, on her part, could not forget Isabella, 
 and never failed to go daily to the palace ; but she did 
 not see her more than once in a hundred times, for she 
 was told at one time that the Duchess could not be seen, 
 at another that she was absent, and poor Maria would 
 turn away sorrowful, her heart swelling, and her eyes 
 filling with tears, but before she had gone half-way down 
 the street, she would find excuses for Isabella, believe 
 the reason for her dismissal, reproach herself for having 
 doubted her, and comfort herself in the hope that she 
 should be more fortunate the following day. But the 
 following day it was the same thing over again, and her 
 grief was sharpened by her constantly receiving appli-
 
 The Son. 
 
 cations from persons who wished her to obtain for them 
 some favor from Isabella. In vain she assured them 
 that she no longer possessed any influence over the 
 Duchess ; they did not believe her, but thought that 
 she wished to avoid obliging them, and said to her: 
 " We know perfectly well that Isabella and you are one 
 person ; one soul in two bodies ; whatever pleases you, 
 she does ; whatever you wish, you can have ; do not 
 reject the prayer of the widow and orphan, intercede 
 for us, and you will obtain ; perform this act of charity, 
 remember that you are one of the people ; do not grow 
 proud ; a day may come when the Lord will visit you 
 too, and then how sweet will it be to think of the good 
 you have done ; and you can demand the assistance of 
 the people, who will give it gladly, that you may know 
 that they can feel gratitude." 
 
 Think what a sharp stab this must have been to the 
 heart of the poor girl ; but she tried to do her best, and 
 secretly comforted herself with the thought that even if 
 the Duchess had withdrawn her favor from her, she had 
 not forfeited it by her own fault. 
 
 Meanwhile Cecchino had become a man-at-arms of 
 the Duke, who had taken him to Rome. He was doubt- 
 ful whether Maria could go with him or not, but con- 
 sidering that it would be shameful for him to leave his 
 aged mother entirely alone, he decided that she had 
 better remain, the more easily as he hoped to be able 
 often to visit his home. But fate frustrated his inten- 
 tions, till, hoping vainly from month to month, three 
 years had passed ; and in this interval of time, to the 
 sincerest grief of himself and his wife, his mother had 
 departed to a better world. Then Maria wrote to him,
 
 156 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 that as there was nothing now remaining to keep her 
 at Florence, and as she had grown tired of it, she wished 
 to join him at Rome immediately ; but Cecchino, in re- 
 ply, begged her to remain, as the Duke could not delay 
 many days longer his return to Florence, and that they 
 should all return with him ; and it did not appear safe 
 to him that she, a woman, should venture alone upon 
 the journey, while the roads were so beset with large 
 bands of banditti, and even in Rome itself it was inse- 
 cure. The good Maria, bearing her disappointment pa- 
 tiently, expected her husband every day. 
 
 It was the evening of the fourth of July, 1576, and 
 Maria was spinning, alone and in silence, after having 
 sung several verses of the song of Giosafatte and of 
 Barlaam, and the whole episode of the death of Zerbino 
 and Isabella, the pathetic fancy of Lodovico Ariosto,* 
 when she heard a knock at the door. She started, like 
 one whose heart has been watching, sprang to her feet, 
 and lifting the latch of the door, went to the head of the 
 stairs with a light in her hand, hardly daring to hope 
 that she might see her Cecchino appear : she beheld, 
 
 * The writings of Ariosto were at that time as " familiar as house- 
 hold words" throughout Italy ; now, even his name is hardly known 
 in the rural districts. Montaigne, who travelled through Italy in tlio 
 time of the Grand Duke Francesco, writes in the third volume of his 
 Travels : " I wondered particularly at three things, first, to see the 
 people here working on Sunday, threshing, preparing grain, cooking, 
 and spinning. The second, to see these peasants, with lutes in thtir 
 hands, and even the shepherds singing the verses of Ariosto. This is 
 common throughout all Italy. The third, to see how they leave their 
 cut grain in the fields for ten days or a fortnight, without fear of their 
 neighbors." It would seem that in those times the French were 
 greater thieves than the Italians.
 
 The Son. 157 
 
 instead, a man dressed in black, who entering with much 
 caution, closed the door carefully, and then began slowly 
 to ascend the stairs. Maria felt a little alarmed, but 
 she had too much spirit to allow herself to be overcome 
 by fear, and looking more closely at him, she recognised 
 Don Inigo, the taciturn major-domo of the Duchess. 
 
 " Good evening, Don Inigo, welcome ; what strange 
 chance has brought you here ?" 
 
 Inigo, in words which, though they retained nothing 
 of his native Spanish, were yet far from being good 
 Italian, replied : 
 
 " God and the holy Virgin del Pilar keep you, Seiiora 
 Maria," and continued to ascend the stairs; when he 
 reached the room he stopped a moment to rest, and then 
 said: 
 
 " My lady sent me to tell you to go as cautiously as 
 possible, towards midnight, to the secret side-door of the 
 palace ; knock twice and it will be opened to you. You 
 will learn the rest from my Lady, who begs of you to 
 preserve the utmost secresy, as it concerns a matter of 
 life and death. Good night." 
 
 And rising, Don Inigo departed as he had come. 
 
 " Don Inigo, hear me, stop a moment ; tell me some- 
 thing more. Oh ! what is this ? Mother of God ! 
 lighten my trouble ! If you know anything do not 
 leave me in this perplexity." 
 
 Meanwhile, Don Inigo having reached the bottom of 
 the stairs, lifted the latch, and in passing the threshold, 
 turned and bowed to Maria, then, without another word, 
 closed the door and disappeared. 
 
 Left alone, Maria began to revolve the matter in her 
 mind ; what it could be, what the Duchess could want,
 
 158 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 whether it was good or evil ; at any rate, there was some 
 great secret hidden beneath it ; then Isabella was renew- 
 ing her former confidence in her ? She should recover 
 her beloved sister. If she should confide some pleasant 
 news, she would rejoice with her ; if some distress, she 
 would console her ; it was her guardian angel that had 
 kept her from going to Rome ; one ought never to act 
 from impulse ; fortune would at last repair its wrongs, 
 the city would again honor her, her friends love and 
 respect her a thousand times more than ever. Glad- 
 dened by these pleasant thoughts she could not stay 
 quiet, but wandered about, setting the house in order ; 
 then she arranged her hair, dressed herself in her best, 
 and then (I know not whether it is the same with people 
 in other parts of the world, but in Italy, when a great joy 
 takes full possession of us, we must break forth into 
 song) Maria began to sing, no longer Giosafatte, or 
 Barlaam, nor yet the mournful episode of Zerbino and 
 Isabella, but the song 
 
 Mountain maidens, bright and fair, 
 
 "Whence your course? Your dwelling where? 
 
 Down from Alpine heights we come 
 
 Near a grove our cottage lies ; 
 There our parents have their home, 
 
 Nature there our wants supplies ; 
 Eve recalls us from the mead 
 Where our flocks securely feed, &c.* 
 
 * Vaghe lo montanine pastorelle, 
 Donde venite si leggiadre e belle ? 
 Vegnam dall' alpe prcsso ad un boschetto : 
 Piccola capannella e il nostro sito, 
 Col padre e con la madre in piccol letto,
 
 The Son. 159 
 
 And she had finished all her preparations so quickly that 
 the appointed hour seemed to fly before her, like the 
 butterfly before the child who pursues it so eagerly, 
 while, fluttering from spray to spray of the hedge, it 
 seems to mock at him. Finally the clock struck, and 
 Maria listening intently, with her finger on her lips, 
 counted the strokes, but becoming confused she lost the 
 number, and waited more carefully for the repetition of 
 the sound ; but this seco'nd tune the barking of a dog 
 hindered her from hearing all the strokes, and she 
 remained as uncertain of the hour as before ; she went 
 to the window to ask any one who might be passing, 
 but there was no one to be seen ; then she tried knocking 
 on the wall to ask her neighbor, who, probably just 
 awakened out of sleep, and provoked at being disturbed, 
 answered crossly : " I don't know." Maria, feeling as 
 if she were enduring the tortures of San Lorenzo on the 
 burning coals, and excited by curiosity, determined to 
 set out, and, if too early, to wait in the open air, walking 
 up and down, for from the intense heat, and her exces- 
 sive impatience, staying in the house seemed a mar- 
 tyrdom that she could not possibly endure. 
 
 But Isabella's impatience was no less violent than her 
 own, for when she reached the secret door it was opened 
 to her first knock, and she saw the Lady Isabella seated 
 on the lowest step of the stone staircase, pale as a waxen 
 image, with a light at her feet, which partially illu- 
 minated her person. Seeing Maria she rose, and clasping 
 
 Dove natura ci ha sempre nutrito. 
 
 Torniam la sera dal prato fiorito, 
 
 Che abbiam pasciute nostre pecorelle, &c. 
 
 POLIZIASO.
 
 160 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 her right hand pressed it to her heart in silence ; then 
 taking the lamp she began to ascend the stairs, lighting 
 the way for her. 
 
 Reaching her room, Isabella pnt down the lamp near 
 the cradle of an infant. Marvellously beautiful was the 
 workmanship of the cradle, all inlaid with gold ; no less 
 so the velvet counterpane embroidered with beautiful 
 golden leaves, and the silken and gold draperies trimmed 
 with lace of priceless value. Whoever has seen, in the 
 gallery of the Pitti Palace, the portrait of the child 
 Leopoldo dei Medici, who w r as afterwards a cardinal, 
 may easily form an idea of how this child was adorned ; 
 but the most marvellous sight of all was the child itself, 
 which was incredibly beautiful. Maria's glance fell im- 
 mediately upon the little creature, and seeing how 
 lovely it was, she began to fondle it after the manner of 
 women. 
 
 " "Why, who are you, my pretty one ? Ges& ! What 
 a little darling ! Where did you get such splendid eyes ? 
 Could you tell your name ? With wings on your shoul- 
 ders you would seem a little angel of love.* There, 
 there, laugh a little, sweet one, and show your dear little 
 teeth." And putting her forefinger upon the dimple in 
 its chin she played with him, and the little fellow began 
 to laugh merrily, and lifted his tiny hands to Maria's 
 face as if to return her caresses. 
 
 Isabella, silent, but partly relieved from the over- 
 powering grief that had oppressed her, stood looking at 
 the touching scene ; but at last, as if roused by the 
 urgency of the case, she spoke : " Do you see ? That 
 
 * Mettigli 1'ale, 6 un angiolel di amore. PERTICARI.
 
 The Son. 161 
 
 beautiful head will soon be crushed by a hand of iron, 
 or dashed against the wall, or else trampled under foot ; 
 those eyes will be torn from their sockets ; those soft, 
 white limbs become a shapeless mass of bleeding 
 flesh " 
 
 " Alas ! Avho would be such a monster as to do so ? 
 Who would dare to commit such a crime in the Orsini 
 Palace ?" 
 
 " Orsini." 
 
 " I do not understand. His Grace the Duke has 
 always seemed to me an honorable Knight and a Chris- 
 tian " 
 
 " This child is name, but not my husband's. Now do 
 you understand ?" 
 
 " Good Heavens ! But why are we Christians, unless 
 we are able to forgive ? Trust hi God ; trust to the 
 efficacy of repentance, throw yourself at your husband's 
 feet " 
 
 " He would kill us both." 
 
 " Your brother's " 
 
 " He would kill us both." 
 
 " Who says so ? You are too suspicious ; it does not 
 seem right to believe Christians capable of such enormi- 
 ties." 
 
 " Ah ! Maria ! Men are wicked and cruel. They 
 wish to love us only so long as it pleases them, but if 
 we cease to love them, they call it a crime, and as a 
 crime punish it most severely. Giordano, who, if I 
 were dying for love of him, would not stir from Rome 
 to say to me : ' Go in peace, O sorrowing one ;' would 
 fly like an arrow from the bow to kill me and this child, 
 because I have shown that I did not care for him "
 
 162 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " The Duke may be as you say, but your brothers " 
 
 " My brothers have taken ' the shadow of a shade,' 
 and have called it honor. They, who would wish to 
 rule universally and absolutely, have become the slaves 
 of this shadow ; they have made a code of it, which 
 they quote continually ; but the pages are blank ; every 
 one reads there what passion dictates ; one single thing 
 appears there, thanks to the characters of blood in 
 which it is written, and that is death " 
 
 " Well, if there is no longer any pity to be found in 
 the world, fly, hide yourself in some secluded retreat, 
 where you may ask the Lord to pardon your fault, and 
 He will certainly grant " 
 
 " I cannot go away, and I will not ; I feel that I am 
 guilty, and will not try to escape the punishment that 
 is destined for me ; I no longer know what to do with 
 a life full of remorse and shame ; henceforward I shall 
 have to cast down my eyes, unable to meet the gaze of 
 others; and the daughter of a crowned prince must 
 hate life when she is obliged to bow her face, burning 
 with shame. But what crime has this infant commit- 
 ted ? It is innocent ; its fate must be separated from 
 mine. This child must be saved " 
 
 And it shall be." 
 
 " O Maria, with those words you have given me the 
 only comfort which my sorrowing soul can now feel. 
 Take him he is yours and as yours save him." 
 
 So saying, she took the child and put him in Maria's 
 arms. The baby, who had taken a fancy to Maria, 
 raised his little hands towards her face, and seemed to 
 entreat her as well as he knew how ; Maria, kissing him 
 with the wannest affection, replied :
 
 The Son. 163 
 
 " Yes, my pretty angel, do not fear, I will save you. 
 Yes, you shall not die, you must live and be happy ; if 
 men are cruel, women are compassionate, and succeed 
 better than men, because God aids piety and hates the 
 wicked " 
 
 " Maria, I expected no less from the great love you 
 have always felt for me, and still feel. God and your 
 own conscience will reward you for this good action, 
 better than I ever can either by word or deed. I con- 
 fess it, in the days of my guilt, I avoided you ; you 
 seemed a troublesome restraint upon me. Do not be 
 angry ; would man ever sin, if he did not first drive his 
 guardian angel from him? My present wretchedness 
 is sufficient punishment for my sin, and to satisfy you 
 entirely, as I ought, Maria, I entreat your pardon " 
 
 " O my sweet Lady, what words are these ? You 
 will make me weep, and we have need of all our firm- 
 ness and resolution. Up now, tell me what is to be 
 done. Night and silence veil everything in mystery ; 
 no one will know it, and you will live." 
 
 " Listen : feeling sure of your goodness, I have pre- 
 pared everything that is necessary. In this chest you 
 will find jewels and money sufficient to establish your- 
 self. If the boy lives, employ it to educate him pro- 
 perly ; if it please God to call him to Himself, keep it for 
 your own use. Here is a letter which I confide solemnly 
 to your secresy. "When you reach Paris, give it with 
 your own hands to Catherine, Queen of France " 
 
 " Paris ! France ! What do you mean ? I never 
 dreamed of that !" 
 
 " What did you intend to do ?" 
 
 " Why, to take the child home with me ; to move to
 
 164 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 another street, and live in some little house on the other 
 side of the Arno, where I could let it be understood 
 
 that the child was my own " 
 
 " That would be perfectly useless, for they will seek 
 this little innocent with the ardor of the bloodhound 
 pursuing the wild beast ; and while you would fail to 
 save him, you yourself would run extreme danger. This 
 dear head must be defended by very different means ; 
 the space of a thousand miles between him and his per- 
 secutors would hardly insure safety " 
 
 " Ah, my Lady ! I cannot leave Florence !" 
 " What ! You cannot ? Do you then repent of your 
 kindness ? "Will you break your promise to me ?" 
 
 " Ah, my Lady ! You know that I am a wife. My 
 husband is far distant ; now how can I, consistently 
 with my duty, go away without his consent ? How 
 leave a country which he does not wish to leave ? If 
 he were to return, and, finding me gone, his love for me 
 should be changed to hatred, should he say : ' Since she 
 is gone, I shall take no more trouble about her ;' were 
 I to become a wanderer over the world without him, 
 should he doubt the great love I feel for him, and the 
 faith that I have always kept to him, and despise me 
 Ah, wretched me ! I should die, I should certainly 
 
 die of grief " 
 
 " You love your husband very much, Maria ?" 
 " How could I help loving him ? When, forsaken 
 by every one, my parents dead, without a single rela- 
 tion, banished from your heart, I implored God to call 
 me to Himself, because I had lost every reason for 
 wishing to live, and the Lord not granting my prayer, 
 I felt myself plunged in despair, this beloved youth had
 
 The Son. 165 
 
 pity upon me and said : ' Come, poor forsaken one ; 
 rest upon my arm, and we will make the journey of life 
 together ; if you wish for love, I offer you a heart capa- 
 ble of loving :' and I clung to him, as St. Peter did to 
 the robe of Christ, when he felt himself drowning, and I 
 was saved : life became pleasant to me, and has always 
 remained so, because I feel that I give pleasure to him 
 to my husband my only comfort on earth " 
 
 " How happy you are ! But reassure yourself, Ma- 
 ria ; I shall know the moment he returns, and then I 
 will contrive either to speak to him myself, or, failing in 
 that, will send a monk of holy demeanor and sweet elo- 
 quence, who will be able to make him contented, and 
 willing to appreciate your good and pious action, so 
 that if he love virtue, as he must, loving you, he not 
 only will bear no ill-will against you, but will love you 
 a thousand times more than before " 
 
 " You say well : but if you should not be able either 
 to speak or to send to him ; if, in the bitterness of the 
 unexpected calamity, he should be overcome by passion, 
 and destroy himself, or fall sick Alas ! I tremble at 
 the mere thought that he might be sick, and not have 
 his Maria by his bedside to care for him " 
 
 " I swear to you by my soul, that he shall know it 
 before he enters the gates of Florence ; do not fear, I 
 bind myself by my word as a Princess and a Chris- 
 tian " 
 
 " But even if I could trust you in this, Isabella, how 
 could I endure to banish myself for ever from, my 
 country ?" 
 
 " And what is there now in this country of ours to 
 bind you to it ? The spirit of the republic is irrevocably
 
 166 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 departed, not like a flame extinguished by force, but like 
 a candle which has burned to the socket. Most of her 
 worthiest children wander sadly, either in voluntary or 
 forced exile, so that it may be said of Florence as it was 
 of Pisa after the defeat at Meloria, that to see Pisa it 
 was necessary to go to Genoa. In Lyons and in Paris 
 you will meet the flower of our citizens. The royal 
 buildings and the churches in France equal, if they do not 
 surpass, our own. There, as here, the earth produces 
 pleasant fruits ; there, as here, the sun and stars shed 
 their blessed light ; there, as here, people love, hate, are 
 born, live and die; and God exalts the humble, casts 
 down the proud, and listens to the prayer of innocent 
 
 souls like yours " 
 
 " Yes, but there is no shrine before which I love to 
 pray so well as that of the Santissima Annunziata in 
 the city, and in the country that of the Impruneta; the 
 sound of the organ does not exalt me, unless its echoes 
 swell beneath the arches of Santa Maria del Fiore ; the 
 sweet breeze of evening does not refresh me, unless it 
 blows upon me from between the Duomo and San Gio- 
 vanni. O my Lady, when I see the trunk of a tree cut 
 down at the root half buried in the earth, despoiled 
 henceforward of flowers and fruits, and rendered offen- 
 sive to the sight bj the millions of ants which have half- 
 eaten it, I think to myself ' Such it is to be an exile.' 
 And then I love to look at well known faces, I love to say, 
 when a child is born here, ' That is the child of Ginevra 
 or of Laudomine ;' if any one dies ' God rest the soul 
 of Giulio, of Lapo, or of Baccio ;' but away from one's 
 country, you hear always around you ' Behold the child 
 of the foreigner; behold the companion of the for-
 
 The Son. 167 
 
 eigner;' and without really intending it, the people 
 among whom you dwell never cease making you feel 
 that you are nothing there, that you do not belong to 
 their land, that you are privileged in being allowed to 
 breathe their air, to be gladdened by their light and 
 warmed by their sun. Who would speak to me again 
 in the language in which my darling mother chid me 
 when idle, or rewarded me when diligent ? And if I 
 wanted nothing else in that foreign land, who could 
 enable me to kneel upon the stone which covers the 
 bones of my parents, and repeat for them the De pro- 
 fundis ? In my afflictions, when it seemed as if I were 
 utterly abandoned, I went to their grave and grieved 
 with them at my undeserved fate, praying them to 
 receive me into eternal peace ; suddenly I seemed to 
 hear a voice, I am sure that I really did hear one, which 
 comforted me, saying: 'Do not despair, continue to 
 walk in the way of the Lord, for you are already near 
 the end of your trials.' " 
 
 Isabella changed color many times while Maria was 
 speaking ; suddenly she threw herself at her feet, and 
 clasping her knees, thus implored her : 
 
 " Maria, by the bones of your parents, by the welfare 
 of your soul and mine, I conjure you not to deny me 
 what you have promised. Behold a mother utterly 
 desolate ; see if ' ever sorrow was like unto my sorrow ;' 
 I will not release your knees until you have given me 
 peace ; I will not raise my face from the dust until you 
 have pronounced the word that gives me life. Some 
 future day you may return to this land which is so dear 
 to you, and that day cannot be far distant, for those who 
 wish my death will quickly follow me to the tomb. And
 
 i68 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 you, my child unfortunate before you could understand 
 what misfortune is lift up your hands and entreat this 
 woman who alone can preserve your life ; I can do 
 nothing for you ; to stay by my side would bring certain 
 death upon you. Maria! Maria! May the Virgin show 
 you mercy upon your death-bed as you now show it 
 to me ! Have pity upon a mother who must else 
 see her son slaughtered before her eyes for Christ's 
 sake - !" 
 
 And seeing that Maria hesitated, undecided what to 
 do, she rose wildly and clutching the child, who began 
 to wail piteously, she advanced with resolute step 
 towards the balcony. 
 
 " Since," she muttered convulsively, " since I cannot 
 save you, at least I will not see you die ; let us perish 
 together; they must collect the mangled remains of 
 both. Maria, farewell ! May this murder, which you 
 might have prevented, not rise up in judgment against 
 you. Come, my baby, let us leave this world where 
 virtue and hatred are equally cruel all wicked and 
 cruel - " 
 
 Like one, who, after a long and terrible struggle, has 
 at last resolved upon what part to take, Maria sprang 
 after Isabella, and clinging to her dress, exclaimed, 
 l I will go to France 
 
 Isabella, throwing her disengaged arm round her neck, 
 sobbed without being able to utter a word. When she 
 had somewhat recovered from her violent excitement, 
 she said, 
 
 " We must hasten, for the hour approaches." 
 She then divested the child of its gay trappings of 
 velvet, and put them with the laces and counterpane
 
 The Son. 169 
 
 into the gilded cradle, then kindling the fire she put 
 them all in it. 
 
 " Let this finery be destroyed for ever, it would not 
 bring you honor but disgrace; you must forget your 
 origin. Child of shame, be satisfied if the fault of your 
 parents be not visited upon you. Maria, I prophesy 
 that he will be to you a best beloved son, and you cer- 
 tainly will look upon him as one ; for we love our fellow 
 beings in proportion to the trouble that they cost us, 
 and to the benefits which we confer upon them; and 
 you are conferring one upon him, which the heart can 
 understand, but which the lips cannot express. Maria, 
 he will be the pride of your life, the comfort of your old 
 age ; here I transfer to you all the rights of a mother, 
 which you will exercise much better than I could have 
 done. You will exert them innocently and religiously, 
 for that will be piety in you, which in me would be sin ; 
 but whencesoever they arise the rights of a mother are 
 holy and sacred. You will bring him up in the fear of 
 the Lord, make him humble and gentle*; proud thoughts 
 are not suitable to him. Watch carefully that cruel 
 feelings do not steal into his heart ; do not disclose to 
 him his birth, nor, alas ! who was his mother ; he would 
 despise me, and the scorn of their children weighs more 
 heavily upon the bones of parents than the marble stone. 
 At some future time, if you should discover him to be 
 compassionate as I hope and pray he will be if then 
 he wishes at any rate to know who his mother was, tell 
 him ' an unfortunate one !' Maria, I implore you to 
 impress it upon him never to remove this little pearl 
 cross which I take from my neck and put on his. Mark 
 well what I have said, for it is my last will, and these my 
 
 8
 
 170 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 last words, that I now say to you. Adieu, my own, 
 pardon me the life which I have given you ; adieu, never 
 to see you again but perhaps in heaven hereafter. 
 But how can I hope that God will pardon my crime ? 
 I will weep day and night I will expiate my sin with 
 blood, and appeased Justice will not forbid Mercy to 
 join in Heaven those whom sin has separated on earth. 
 But the Mother of Christ pardon me the prayer if in 
 the life beyond the tomb we may not be united, may 
 you at least, my son, be admitted into Paradise; in 
 eternal torments, it will still be some comfort to your 
 mother to know that you are happy in the abode of the 
 blessed. Maria take him I dare not bless him for fear 
 my benediction should bring evil upon his head " 
 
 " My poor Lady ! Bless him, bless him, for the Lord 
 will listen to your blessing as to that of a saint " 
 
 " Do you really believe so, Maria ?" 
 
 " By all my hopes of Heaven, I do believe it " 
 
 " O Lord, cleanse my hands for a moment, that I may 
 bless this innocent head," exclaimed Isabella, raising her 
 eyes to Heaven and praying silently. Then a glorious 
 radiance spread over her face. Reassured, she extended 
 her hands over the child and added : 
 
 " Go, my son, I bless you " 
 
 Then, trembling, she took the light and continued : 
 
 " Come ; before daybreak, they will call for you and 
 will escort you to Livorno, where a vessel is waiting for 
 you. Come ; I feel as if we could not be quick enough." 
 
 Maria took the baby, and wrapped him in a brown 
 cloak. Isabella preceded her with the light, as she had 
 done on her arrival. Reaching the bottom of the stair- 
 case, she raised her hand several times to open the door,
 
 The Son. 171 
 
 but seemed unable ; at last, a new thought came sud- 
 denly into her mind, restoring her strength and fortitude. 
 
 " One kiss another another still ! Maria my son 
 farewell for ever " 
 
 Maria kissed her, weeping, and went out quickly, 
 slipping hastily along close to the wall. 
 
 Isabella, overwhelmed with anguish, sank down upon 
 the step, and leaned her forehead against the marble 
 her forehead was colder than the stone.
 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 Che dolce piu, che pift giocondo stato 
 Saria di quel di un amoroso core ? 
 Che vlver phi felice, e piil beato, 
 Che ritrovarsi in servitil di Amore ? 
 Be non fosse 1'uom' sempre stimolato 
 Da quel sospetto rio, da quel timore, 
 Da quel martir, da quella frenesia, 
 Da quella rabbia detta gelosia. 
 
 * * * * * 
 Questa e la cruda, e avvelenata piaga 
 
 A cui non val liquor, non vale impiastro, 
 Nd murmure, ne imagine di saga. 
 
 AEIOSTO, xxxi. 
 
 Man no state more blissful knows 
 Than what Love on life bestows ; 
 Then our happiest hours we prove 
 When we are the slaves of love. 
 But alas ! how brief our bliss 1 
 Still suspicion's serpents hiss 
 Round our heart, and that curs'd fear 
 Frenzy martyrdom is near, 
 Rage that fires the heart and eye, 
 
 Called by mortals Jealousy. 
 
 * * * * * 
 This, that cruel, poisoned wound 
 For whose cure no herb is found ; 
 If that fatal dart we feel, 
 
 Art nor charm nor skill can heal. 
 
 " BLESSED are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the king- 
 dom of heaven." These are the words of Christ, and 
 although I do not doubt that they have been understood 
 according to the deep wisdom with which they AVCVO 
 uttered, yet I will discourse a little, not upon them, for
 
 Jealousy. 1 73 
 
 they have no need of comment, but after their instruc- 
 tion. Man should avoid those studies which make him 
 doubt. He should love himself first, but in a just man- 
 ner, then his family, then his country. There have been, 
 and perhaps there still are, men who love their country 
 more than themselves; but an acute observer will easily 
 understand that sacrificing one's life (compared to which, 
 everything else seems but of little value) is generally 
 induced by a great love of praise and an uncontrollable 
 thirst for fame ; and that in truth they love renown bet- 
 ter than life. The soul should be neither a Menade nor 
 a Bacchante through the fields of knowledge ; science 
 has its fatal orgies, more than dissipation ; the waters do 
 not always flow clear, fresh, and sweet from its urn ; they 
 are sometimes poisoned. The tree of knowledge is not 
 only, not the tree of life, but the Lord said to man : 
 " But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, 
 thou shalt not eat of it : for in the day that thou eatest 
 thereof thou shalt surely die." The man who has seen too 
 much, like Delia contemplating the sun, has become blind 
 with too much light ; his heart has turned to ashes, he 
 is not exalted by anything, has faith in nothing ; virtue 
 and crime, morality and vice, sound the same to him, 
 they are like sweet fruits in one country, and poisonous 
 ones in another, the fault of the earth or the climate : 
 the soul is to him a breath which ceases with death, home 
 the place where he shelters his head from the storm: 
 God a name. 
 
 Man should be satisfied to stop short at the quia : * 
 for if he trusts himself to travel thus at random 
 
 * The wherefore.
 
 174 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 through the regions of knowledge, the evils resulting 
 from this restless wandering would be equal to those 
 which are the consequence of continual travelling through- 
 out the physical world. The latter takes away his family, 
 friends, and home : the former his faith and affections. 
 Job truly compares too much knowledge to a heap of 
 ashes, for it is in truth the most unhappy remains of a 
 fire which will never burn again. I have already said 
 the Creator should have suspended truth as the only 
 luminary from the firmament : for then no one could have 
 doubted its beneficial light and heat, as perhaps some 
 have done of the Sun : and I say perhaps, since there 
 have been men who doubted whether the sun was a mass 
 of fire, believing it to be rather a mass of ice causing a 
 rotary motion hi the molecules of the air : which is a 
 German idea. Ahasuerus, the wandering Jew, represents 
 the symbol of this insatiable desire of knowledge : he 
 travels and travels over desert shores, over burning sands, 
 over snowy fields : he has seen the cupola of St. Peter's, 
 the mosques of Constantinople, and the temples of 
 Brahma and Bhudda : he has seen dogs, oxen, crocodiles, 
 and serpents worshipped : even onions raised to the 
 dignity of Gods ! 
 
 Porrum et cepe nefas violare, ac frangere morsu. 
 sanctas gentes, quibus haec nascuntur in kortis 
 Numina I JUVENAL, Satire 15. 
 
 He has seen bloodless sacrifices, sacrifices of blood and 
 human victims ; he has seen everything : he has forgot- 
 ten all he knew, and all that he has learned is not suffi- 
 cient to appease the feverish craving of his intellect : all 
 that he wishes to know in order to satisfy his burning
 
 Jealousy. 1 75 
 
 thirst, is inclosed within the urn of destiny : he hates to 
 return home, for no one expects him there : his relatives 
 are dead, generations have forgotten his name : he loves 
 no one, and no one loves him : he refuses friends, rejects 
 affections, and avoids binding ties which he MUST unbind 
 to-morrow. Perhaps in that great day when God Mill 
 reveal his eternal face to the vast multitude of created 
 things, his agony will be appeased, and God will give 
 him rest, not for having loved much, but because he 
 suffered much.* 
 Be contented, race of man, at the quia : 
 
 State contente umane genti al quia, 
 Che se potato aveste veder tutto, 
 Meatier non era partorir Maria. DANTE. 
 
 else you will feel the earth tremble beneath your feet, 
 and the heavens fall upon your heads. You grow np 
 educated in the supreme idea of a Being who animates 
 with the breath of his immort.il mouth all that has life 
 in the universe ; who breaks the oppressor like a fragile 
 reed, and shelters the oppressed under his mighty wing ; 
 but in travelling you will find people who neither know 
 God nor worship Hun ; but make to themselves a God 
 of dogs, serpents, oxen, elephants, and onions, and often 
 
 * Ahasuerus is said to be a Jew, who, while Christ was ascending 
 Golgotha, denied Him water to quench his thirst, and would not let 
 him rest beneath the shadow of his house; he was therefore con- 
 demned to wander, for ever cursed and despised. This legend, very 
 common in Germany, is only a fable, as any one may see. Edgar 
 Quinet composed a drama on this subject, the personages represented 
 being sphinxes, winds, trophies of arms, ruins, rivers, and even the 
 ocean. It cannot be denied, however, that among so many and so strange 
 fancies, this drama contains some noble passages of splendid poetry.
 
 176 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 of a monster hideous to look upon, but much more 
 hideous in his bloody rites. It is piety in you to watch 
 over your old infirm father, to comfort him in his last 
 moments with loving cares, and close his eyes in peace ; 
 and yet there were and still are people, who esteem it 
 filial piety to drag their parents from their suffering beds, 
 and hanging them to the branches of trees, light beneath 
 them great fires, crying in their giddy dance around 
 them : " when the fruit is ripe, it must fall," until the 
 body falls and is consumed in the fire. And you, fathers 
 in our beloved country, what sufferings would you not 
 undergo, in order not to see your beloved children torn 
 from your arms, or murdered ? 
 
 In China, they offer children as food to dogs, or throw 
 them into the river. In Africa they sell them ; and Clap- 
 perton tells of a negro woman, who offered her children 
 for sale to him, and because he would not buy them, 
 cursed and beat them because they did not please the 
 white man. We deem it sacred to bury our beloved 
 dead within splendid monuments or tombs ; elsewhere 
 it is sacred to feed on their limbs. Remorse and public 
 hate await him who can and does not save a drowning 
 man : in China remorse and reproach are his reward 
 who saves the shipwrecked sailor. We have laws and 
 sentences against robbery, and the more skill and cun- 
 ning do the thieves show, the more are they punished. 
 The Spartans rewarded thieves, and the more skill they 
 displayed the greater was the reward. 
 
 Nor is it to be supposed that the people among whom 
 such horrible customs are practised cannot give a rea- 
 son, good or bad, for it. They do not believe in God, 
 because they do not understand Him ; they are not
 
 Jealousy. 1 77 
 
 able to conceive other ideas save those that present 
 themselves to their senses, hence they refuse them. 
 Foolish men ! They presume that God should be de- 
 monstrated like a problem of Euclid upon a slate : for 
 religion they want algebra, for an altar arithmetic, for a 
 votive offering a well summed up account, for a minis- 
 ter an accountant. Others deem it a pity to cut short 
 a life which has now become an irremediable grief; 
 others deem their own bosoms a more suitable grave 
 than earth or marble ; others that it is a bold attempt 
 to oppose the designs of nature ; others that citizens 
 early accustomed to subtle cunning are useful to the 
 Republic. Travel and learn ; and while you are urged 
 by a strong desire to gather flowers from all the uni- 
 verse and rejoice in their delightful fragrance, behold 
 the evil worm of doubt creeps insidiously into your 
 heart and gnaws it. The sceptical heart is dead, but as 
 the mind lives, we seem like people who have outlived 
 ourselves : keepers almost of pur own tombs. 
 
 Verily I advise you to be satisfied at the quia. Love 
 much, read little, and let that be poetry, the purest 
 wine of the soul, a precious ambrosia gushing from 
 celestial fountains. And mark, I speak of lofty poetry, 
 the offspring of the mind inflamed by the heart, for 
 that poetry which comes from the intellect only, en- 
 genders doubt. "Who would have been more fortunate 
 tli an Byron ? Did Kature ever create more powerful 
 wings to soar to an immeasurable height ? Who had a 
 better heart, a clearer mind? But he wished to see 
 and know too much, to scrutinize too minutely the 
 genesis of the affections : a new Acteon, he received 
 the penalty of his bold investigations : his own faithful 
 
 8*
 
 178 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 hounds pursued him and tore him in pieces. As if for 
 sport he wished to add the chord of doubt to his lyre ; 
 he thought it would increase the number of its varied 
 sounds, but he deceived himself: this chord cut his 
 fingers worse than a dagger's edge. The advice of 
 Ephorus was most wise; he broke with an axe the new 
 chord added to the Argive lyre. The lyres of Olym- 
 pus and Terpander, when they accompanied the songs 
 of gods and men, had but three chords : twelve were 
 those of the lyre of Timotheus when he sang at the 
 banquet of Alexander and Thais (from whence he who 
 had acquired the name of Great derived his infamy), and 
 at the burning of the ancient Persepolis : and three 
 should be the chords of any lyre, that intends to lead 
 mankind through all that is honorable and great upon 
 the earth, to the eternal home of heaven ; and these 
 chords should be, Love, Faith, and Hope. 
 
 But what has all this to do with my story ? You 
 will see that it has a great deal to do with it, for, con- 
 tinuing, it will be shown how poor people, with the fear 
 of God, and firm in the precepts of Christian charity, 
 can give examples of virtue which might be sought in 
 vain among men gifted with greater talents and more 
 liberal instruction. 
 
 Duke Bracciano, in company with Cecchino and Titta, 
 turned with slow steps towards the Casino St. Marco. 
 The two servants now thought they might refresh 
 themselves with food and drink, and give some repose 
 to their wearied limbs : but they were deceived. The 
 Duke, as soon as he entered, fell upon the first seat lie 
 saw, and remained there some time with his eyes closed : 
 he lifted his hand to his head, and pressing it as if afraid
 
 Jealousy. 1 79 
 
 it might burst, said : " Here everything poisons me ! 
 Here I breathe an atmosphere of crime ! They have 
 poured a hell into my soul ! Arouse, Titta and Cecchino ; 
 you must now show your fidelity, courage, and discre- 
 tion. Go to my palace, present yourselves to my Lady 
 the Duchess : warn her . . . but no ... wait. Bring me 
 writing materials." 
 
 The landlord of the Casino brought promptly what 
 he desired. The Duke tried to write, but his trembling 
 hand denied its office : he could not hasten, but was 
 obliged to wait. At last more calm, he wrote a short 
 note, which he sealed, and gave to Titta, and then con- 
 tinued his interrupted orders : 
 
 " Do not warn her of anything : but give her this let- 
 ter, and say you precede me by one or two days. He- 
 member I am not in Florence. Observe attentively 
 every act, note every word, and when it is spoken, or 
 if she say anything, although it may seem of little im- 
 portance, come cautiously and tell me. I shall not 
 leave here. Go, be faithful, do not fail in your duty to 
 your master : you may shortly know . . . know what 
 you never should have known . . . and what . . . indeed ! 
 What I never should have told you." 
 
 And he dismissed them with a motion of his hand. 
 The servants bowed obsequiously and left. 
 
 After walking about a dozen steps, Titta began thus : 
 " I hope Fortune will, in the end, give us leave to sup ; 
 we have suffered more ill-luck in our supper than ever 
 befell the Emperor Charles in his kingdom." 
 
 " I have been thinking, and have just decided, to leave 
 the service of the Duke, and go to my own house near 
 by."
 
 180 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " God help you, have you lost your wits ? It some- 
 times happens when we travel in this season of the year 
 beneath a hot sun." 
 
 " I have not lost my wits, Titta ; no, I have not lost 
 them. You see, when I engaged myself as man-at-arms 
 for my Lord Duke, it was for a reason which I will tell 
 you. My father lived in the time of the Republic, and 
 gave me a bad inheritance, for instead of educating me 
 to the times, he was always talking to me of Signer 
 Giovanni of the black bands, of Giacomino, Ferruccio, 
 and other like men, so that a fever took hold of me to 
 follow in their footsteps, for I felt as if nature had en- 
 dowed me with something : but I did not see in what 
 way I could follow this inclination : the war with Siena 
 was over, and yet I would have cut my hand off before 
 J would have leagued with the assassins of those noble 
 citizens. I married in order to quiet this wild disposi- 
 tion : it was all nonsense. I did not know how to settle 
 myself to a mechanic's trade ; thanks to Lady Isabella, 
 who was foster-sister to my wife, I took service with 
 my Lord Duke, trusting that he being made General by 
 the Pope or Venetians, I might at least bear arms 
 against the enemies of Christ, those ugly Turkish dogs 
 whom God confound. But I have wasted the best years 
 of my life in Rome without drawing even a spider from 
 his hole, and my sword has rusted in its scabbard." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! Death is so slow that it is really worth 
 while to go and meet it. Is it not so much life found ? 
 Have you not got your wages ? What can you do in 
 this world better than to eat and sleep ?" 
 
 " "Why so ? Were not the men whose fame sounds 
 upon the lips of the people flesh and blood like us ?
 
 Jealousy. 181 
 
 Did they not bask in the same rays of light ? Did not 
 winter chill them, and summer warm them ? Did they 
 not weep and laugh ? "Were they not mortals like us ?" 
 
 " Hear me, Cecchino ; there are men who grow tip 
 like pines, others like grass: the latter is born every 
 year, and every year is cut down with the scythe ; it is 
 left to dry upon the fields, and then is given to cattle. 
 We are of the second species. The hay might say : I 
 wish to be a pine ! Just so one of us might presume to 
 become duke, prince, or I know not what. When you 
 shall have left one eye in Africa, one arm in America, 
 one leg in Hungary, to the remaining trunk of your 
 body, within which your immortal soul is sheltered like 
 a garrison in the fortress of a castle, they will give the 
 title of sergeant, and a couple of ducats for pay. Once, 
 in republics, we had a chance to come out something : 
 but nowadays glory is for great lords : it is our duty 
 to be killed ; so the best thing is to draw our pay, and 
 preserve our health as well as we can. If life is an evil, 
 death is a worse one. We call this world a valley of 
 tears ; but it would seem as if men liked to weep, for no 
 one would ever leave it unless expelled from it." 
 
 " And supposing you are right', I never will eat bread 
 gained through baseness and crime ; it would break out 
 my teeth, and turn to poison in my stomach. I wish to 
 live hi peace with myself." 
 
 " God help you ! What do you want your master to 
 do with your virtue ? You remind me of Diogenes, who 
 cried when brought to the market-place to be sold : ' Who 
 wants to buy a master ?' Virtue is a sail with which we 
 make but little progress over the sea of life ; in these 
 times virtue is as useful as a warming-pan in August.
 
 182 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 "Watchfulness over our master's safety, obedience to his 
 commands, a German patience to wait in a corner, 
 promptness to give a stab in the dark that despatches 
 without giving time for a Jesu Maria, and a mystery in 
 not having it discovered, will procure us all the fame that 
 is granted us to acquire, and bread for ourselves and 
 families. . . ." 
 
 " No, never will I do this ; no, by St. John the Bap- 
 tist my protector ; I pray him to give me an evil death 
 first. Go, spy and tell. I would rather bite my tongue 
 out than play the spy. Titta, do you not smell blood 
 here ? One of these days we must give an account of this 
 bloodshed. And what pretext, what excuse can we give 
 for it ? Can we say : ' ask the account of our master ?' " 
 
 " Indeed, you make me have some scruple ; not for the 
 blood, for this is part of our trade. They have really 
 bought us soul and dagger, and to use it in a different 
 way certainly than the Emperor Domitian ; but the name 
 of spy sticks in my throat .... besides, the Duke debases 
 us without necessity. What need is there (for I see 
 plain enough that here is the knot) for spies to know if 
 a wife is unfaithful ? Do you not think so, Cecchino ? 
 Would he be the first husband to find out that all is not 
 gold that glitters? As it has been said: women are 
 all of the same stamp ! . . ." 
 
 " That is not true ; I would swear now, you are saying 
 what you do not believe, Was not your mother a woman ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! my mother was a woman ; but I was not 
 speaking, nor thinking of her just then ; I said it of the 
 others. . . ." 
 
 " And do you not believe a woman can love ?" . . . 
 
 " I believe it, although it sometimes seems the contrary.
 
 Jealousy. 1 83 
 
 Place yourself at the mouth of a cave, and utter a cry 
 within it ; the echo will repeat it six or seven times. 
 But is the cry yours, or the cave's ? Yours. It seems 
 as if other voices replied to you, but you are deceived, 
 for all these voices are one and the same thing as your 
 own voice. So when you say to a woman : I love you, 
 she will reply : I love you, love you, love you ; but 
 woe to you if you believe she said it by herself; it was 
 the echo of your own voice, and woe to you if you fall 
 in love with your own voice as Narcissus did with his 
 own face. . . ." 
 
 " Listen, Titta, I am young and of little experience ; 
 but I can see that your heart bleeds, perhaps from some 
 deserved wound : you have not been loved, or have been 
 betrayed ; but have you ever loved ?" 
 
 " I speak philosophically, without reference to myself. 
 What I tell you is natural, and cannot be otherwise. 
 Inconstancy is a fruit of youth like the fragrant red 
 strawberry of spring ; constancy is a fruit of mature 
 age like the medlar of autumn ; therefore in woman 
 virtue may be called the. medlar of life ! All beautiful 
 things seem splendid in variety. Look at the rainbow, 
 look at the dove's neck in the sunlight, look at the 
 peacock's tail. Why do bees make sweet honey and 
 wax ? Because they fly from flower to flower. Women 
 are moved by the same impulse as the bees. We are 
 stupid creatures, to think of taking a soul and shutting 
 it up in a cage like a bird, or nailing it down as a money 
 changer does a ducat on his counter ; even more cruel 
 than stupid, after we are dead, we thrust a bony arm 
 from the grave and presume to hold a poor woman by 
 the hair. If she will keep herself a good widow, the
 
 184 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 will says, she shall have so much ; if not, nothing ; 
 very bad ideas in bad words ; because we are dead, shall 
 not others enjoy life ?" 
 
 " All this would be very well, if life was a book, that 
 we close on coming to the conclusion, and put away to 
 see no more; but as we must think to meet again in 
 the valley of Jehosaphat, if one's wife has had another 
 husband, or even two, which will she have ? With 
 which shall she live to all eternity ?" 
 
 " With the one she likes best ; and there is no use to 
 fret about that, since all shall have their turn ; all shall 
 be satisfied, if you only think of the length of eternity 
 in women, which I have been assured by people worthy 
 of belief, lasts all one week and sometimes a little over 
 the next Monday." 
 
 " Go, go, you will die despairing, since you deny love. 
 Love, the sweetest union of spirits, two souls joined in 
 one, redoubling strength and help, nourished by mutual 
 sacrifices like the violet on dew." 
 
 " Nonsense, my boy, nonsense ; love is an instinct of 
 rapine, the agony of power, and the tenacity of posses- 
 sion. The love for a woman is like the love of property. 
 Time was, but a time very, very distant, according to all 
 accounts even before Adam, in which mine and thine 
 meant nothing on the tongues of men ; a traveller see- 
 ing a ripe fruit hanging from a tree, plucked and ate it. 
 But one night certain envious men met together, and 
 digging a pit around some land more fertile than the 
 rest, said in the morning : no one shall pass beyond this 
 pit, for the land here is our property. People did not 
 care though, and did the same as before. Then these 
 envious men planted a stone on the limits, and threat
 
 Jealousy. 185 
 
 ened evil to whomsoever should dare to pass it. 'Twas 
 of no more use than before ; the excluded men looked 
 upon it as a joke. Finally they put an axe upon the 
 stone, and said : Whosoever passes beyond now, shall 
 die. But the excluded men laughed still more at this 
 buffoonery and passed over; the others, however, lay 
 in ambush, took them, and murdered them. Then the 
 women wept, children cried, and property entered into 
 the minds of men because they had cut off the heads of 
 others." 
 
 " Pardon me, but where did you find all this non- 
 sense ? However bad it may be, it is not flour from 
 your bag." 
 
 " Indeed it is not : if you could only have been so 
 fortunate as to have heard it as I did from the lips of 
 that great philosopher, that divine. . . " 
 
 " What divine ?" 
 
 " Pietro Aretino." 
 
 "Ah! I do not want to hear any more. All have 
 called him, and still do call him divine ; which title, if it 
 does not give testimony of his divinity, certainly bears 
 witness to the extreme cowardice of the men who con- 
 ferred it on him, or consented to it." 
 
 " You slander him ; he was firm in his friendship, and 
 had great affection for Sir Giovanni dei Medici of the 
 black band, and followed him through hardship and 
 danger in his most daring exploits. . ." 
 
 " This friendship spoils the fame of that renowned 
 man. I know very well that while Sir Giovanni was 
 fighting, he was dallying with the women of the 
 camp. . ." 
 
 " That is not true, for he received some wounds."
 
 i86 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " What of that ? When did the receiving of a wound 
 ever signify prowess ? Even Achille della Volta stab- 
 bed him, and he received the wounds weeping and beg- 
 ging for life ? And what reply did he make to Tinto- 
 retto when he measured him with a cutlass ? He was 
 smooth as oil. And when Piero Strozzi threatened to 
 kill him in his bed, did he not shut himself up in his 
 house, nailing doors and windows for fear of air ?"* 
 
 * Achille della Volta stabbed severely the satirical poet Pietro Are- 
 tino in Rome, and on this account his arm was lame during his life- 
 time. Tintoretto, the painter, hearing that Aretino spoke very badly 
 of him, meeting him one day near his studio, invited him very cour- 
 teously to walk hi, and look at his pictures. Aretino went, and Tin- 
 toretto, after bolting the door, without saying a word went to a closet 
 and took out a cutlass, and advanced with threatening aspect towards 
 Aretino. "Alasl Tonio," exclaimed Pietro, trembling, "what do 
 you mean to do ? Do not allow yourself to bo tempted by the devil ! 
 Would you kill me without sacrament, like a dog ?" Tintoretto quietly 
 approached him, who was trembling from head to foot, and measured 
 him with the cutlass, and seeing he was almost ready to die with 
 fright, said : " Fear not, Sir Pietro ; for taking a fancy to paint your 
 portrait, I wanted to measure you : you can go now ; you are exactly 
 three cutlasses and a half high I" and opening the door he dismissed 
 him. Aretino always spoke well of Tintoretto after that. Aretino 
 having been very intimate with John dei Medici of the black-bands, 
 continued his attachment to the Grand Duke Cosimo his son, from 
 whom he received many presents, as shown by his letters ; therefore, 
 adverse to Piero Strozzi at the tune of the war with Siena, he wrote a 
 humorous sonnet upon him, which began thus : 
 
 E, Piero Strozzi anna virnmque cano, etc. 
 
 Piero, after that, warned him to carry the extreme unction in his poc- 
 ket, for he would cause him to be murdered even were he in his own 
 bed. Aretino, frightened, dared not go out of his house for a year or 
 more. I cannot conclude this note without recording the epitaphs or
 
 Jealousy. 1 87 
 
 " What can one do against people who take one un- 
 armed and unawares ? And if Piero made Duke Cosi- 
 mo fear him, what wonder if the divine tried to guard 
 himself from him ? But what devotion he showed to- 
 wards his children Austria and Adria ? You should have 
 seen how much he thought of them, and how careful he 
 was to assure them a dowry in the hands of the Duke of 
 Urbino, and how he recommended them to all his friends!" 
 
 " He loved them to sell them " 
 
 " Per Dio 1 Do not say so ! 
 
 " Do not say so ? I will say so while I have breath 
 enough. What, do you think the shameful rumor of 
 the death of this bad, villanous dog, never reached me ? 
 Did he not die with bursting into infamous laughter on 
 hearing of some disgraceful stories of his sisters in Ve- 
 nice ? Go, you are corrupt to the very bone. Go, eat 
 
 epigrams, in the true meaning of the word (since the ancients meant 
 by epigrams those funeral inscriptions, full of contumelies, written for 
 men yet living), which Paolo Giovio and Pietro Aretino exchanged. 
 Giovio said : 
 
 Qui giace 1'Aretin, poeta Tosco : 
 Di tutti disse mal, fuorchd di Crist o, 
 Scusandosi col dir : non lo conosco. 
 
 Here Aretino lies, in many a poem 
 
 Who railed at all mankind save Jesus Christ, 
 
 And this was his excuse : I do not know him. 
 
 And Aretino replied with this : 
 
 Qui giace il Giovio, storicone altissimo, 
 Di tutti disse mal, fuorchfi dell' osino, 
 Scusandosi col dur, egli e mio prossimo. 
 
 Here Giovio lies, historian widely known, 
 
 All he defamed, except the Ass alone ; 
 
 And when his friends, astonished, asked him why f 
 
 He is my next of kin, was his reply.
 
 i88 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 the bread of blood : I swear to die of hunger first : go, 
 keep your faith, and I mine. When your last hour 
 comes you will see at your pillow the devil, who will 
 erase the baptismal mark from your brow: I hope to 
 see my virtuous and beloved wife, my good children, 
 and the peace of angels. Let us part ; you go alone to 
 the Orsini palace." 
 
 "You see, I should get into a passion with you, 
 and let you know that Titta never suffers an insult ; but 
 I also learnt this from the Divine, fortunate are they 
 who proclaim the truth, if they do not get stoned. I 
 will say at the palace, you are ill, or something else ; I 
 will frame an excuse to leave you time to give rest to 
 your brain, and return to-morrow to your usual post." 
 
 "Thanks; I do not mean to return, and shah 1 not. 
 Titta ! come here. Look, that is my house : I was born 
 and brought up in it. Titta ! do you not see a light in 
 the window ? Tell me ; my eyes are full of tears, and do 
 not see clearly. Holy Virgin ! Is there not a woman in 
 the balcony ? Do I see right or wrong, Titta ? " 
 
 " You see right ; there certainly is a woman there." 
 
 " Oh, it is my Mary ! Poor woman, she is waiting for 
 me ! "Who knows how many nights she has passed at 
 that window ! Oh, what joy to see my dear kind Mary 
 again ! " 
 
 Thus exclaiming, he set out at such a rate that a wild 
 goat could not have kept pace with him. Titta tried to 
 recal him in vain, crying, " Cecchino, stop ; Cecchino, 
 hear ! " 
 
 But he ran faster than ever Weary and hot, Cec- 
 chino reached the door of his house, and scarcely had 
 he called in a breathless voice, Mary ! before the woman
 
 Jealousy. 1 89 
 
 replied, Cecchino ! and with a cry of joy disappeared 
 from the balcony and descended the stairs. In a few 
 moments the street door opened, and these two beings . 
 rushed into each other's arms, mingling tears, kisses, and 
 sobs, with such unrestrained passion, as to have caused 
 deep emotion to any spectator. 
 
 Titta came up soon after, but found the door shut 
 and bolted ; he thought he would knock, but refrained, 
 saying : 
 
 " I might as well knock at the door of a churchyard, 
 and wait until our first father, Adam, came to open to 
 me. Requiem ceternam dona eis, Domim. Cecchino 
 has certainly shown himself a fool. There is no use in 
 getting anything out of him. God knows if I've not 
 tried to do the best I could for him, as if he were my 
 own son, and even tried to make a scholar of him. See 
 now how a woman has upset the whole. It is useless ! 
 until the women are taken out of it, and men are not 
 grafted like plum trees, the world will go on from bad 
 to worse. But he is young ; and young blood must 
 have its way ; to-morrow he will come back, a little cast 
 down perhaps, but he will soon come back. Now, I 
 must see to everything alone ; but I will eat first, and 
 then go to bed, and sleep as long as I please. And will 
 my Lord Paolo Giordano wait ? Certainly he must 
 wait ! I have no need of him : these masters expect us 
 to be good and bad ; amiable and quarrelsome ; faithful 
 and traitors ; stupid and wise ; angels and devils ; then, 
 never to eat, never to dress, and never to ask questions : 
 in short, if a servant possessed half the qualities a master 
 asks in him, there never would be so poor a one that did 
 not deserve to have for servant a Marquis at least.
 
 igo Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Besides, what use is it to watch ? Julia must be in the 
 house. In less than five minutes I shall know more than 
 I can remember or repeat ; and even without so much 
 loss of breath, if I choose to play the lover to her, who 
 will dispute it ? Certainly not she ; our bond is lasting 
 and strong ; not limited, nor barren ; we, instead of the 
 individual, love the whole race : she, all the men ; I, all 
 the women ; in this way there is no distance, no absence 
 for us ; we are always present, always in love ; we are 
 like pearls of the same necklace ; we make a garland of 
 every flower and crown our life with it. One flower does 
 not make Spring ; love is not comprised in one single 
 affection." With these ideas revolving in his mind, 
 Titta turned from Cecchino's house, delaying no longer 
 his arrival at the palace. 
 
 I return more willingly now to Cecchino and Mary. 
 Embracing each other and happy, they mounted, or 
 rather flew, up the staircase, resembling two doves, 
 hastening with outspread wings to their sweet nest. On 
 reaching the room above they renewed their tender 
 greetings : one questioned the other, and the other in 
 reply questioned in turn ; and not waiting for replies 
 they poured forth a torrent of words burning with 
 curiosity and passion. But this singular colloquy at last 
 ceased, and laughing heartily, they exchanged kisses 
 again. Mary, with sparkling eyes and blushing cheeks, 
 first spoke : " Come, you are covered with dust and 
 perspiration ; let me bring water to wash your hands 
 and face." 
 
 And she brought a basin of water ; singing as happily 
 as if it were a sunny noon, and not midnight ; she then 
 opened a chest-of-drawers, bianging out a towel of clean-
 
 Jealousy. 191 
 
 est linen, fragrant with cassia flowers, assisting him in 
 drying his face and hands upon it. Nor did her attention 
 stop here, for a good wife is the dearest joy of a man's 
 heart ; but she sat down, and taking Cecchino's head in 
 her lap, combed his hair nicely, freeing it of the dust, 
 and arranging it smoothly around his neck. Then 
 raising his head with both hands, looked smilingly in 
 his face, exulting as a good and virtuous wife should, in 
 a valiant, handsome husband, saying truly from her 
 heart, as she kissed his brow : 
 
 " You look to me like an angel." . . 
 
 " But this angel," replied Cecchino, " not being as yet 
 divested of its earthly clothing, is as hungry as one of 
 Adam's children even can be." 
 
 " Indeed ? I did not know you wanted anything. 
 Why did you not say so before ? Do not think you take 
 me unprovided. You may find but little in your house, 
 but enough to satisfy your wants." 
 
 " What could I do ? We have travelled more than 
 fifty miles without stopping. We arrived to-night, and 
 never until we got here did we stop long enough to wet 
 our lips." 
 
 " But did you not come with the Duke ?" 
 
 " Yes, but it is not to be known. He did not stop at 
 the palace. But more of this by-and-by." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, by-and-by." 
 
 She then set the table in the twinkling of an eye, not 
 on account of the few dishes and little food she put upon 
 it, but because of the great haste she made. The Floren- 
 tines then had the reputation of being beyond measure 
 frugal and parsimonious, well becoming all those who 
 live honestly ; and they still have it. Certainly they once
 
 192 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 were so ; but it is not to be believed they suffered from 
 it ; and even by the laws called financial, often renewed, 
 and strenuously enforced, we learn that civil parsimony 
 did not spring up spontaneously, but in consequence of 
 continual laws : we learn also that the statute allowed 
 for dinner two viands alone, the roast and boiled, but 
 the Florentines eluded it very easily by using various 
 kinds of boiled and roasted meats, for the only boiled 
 and roasted one prescribed by the statute. As to dress, 
 Franco Sacchetti has recorded in his very pleasing 
 novel, the great cunning shown by the ladies, by which 
 the judges could never catch them transgressing, or 
 even succeed in applying the laws to them. And when 
 persons of high rank came to Florence, the citizens who 
 entertained them paid the fine and displayed royal 
 magnificence. The records of that time describe the 
 manner Lorenzo the Magnificent entertained Frances- 
 chetto Cibo and his Court, when he came to marry his 
 daughter ; and this description serves to show how old 
 is the fashion in all those who attempt to destroy the 
 liberty of their country, in studiously observing ap- 
 pearances, in order to sharpen the axe to cut the sub- 
 stance. But then the chests were full of golden florins, 
 the commerce great, industry wonderful, enterprises 
 prodigious ; and in those times designs were conceived 
 and executed, that nowadays astonish us only to look 
 at. Unjust then is the reputation that now exists of 
 Florentine avarice ; a recent testimony to it, we find in 
 the satires of D'Elci, where he says : 
 
 a te torno, o mia frugal Firenze, 
 
 Dove avarizia ha splentfide apparenze.
 
 Jealousy. 1 93 
 
 Many confirm this, but, as is often the case, rather 
 upon the assertion of others than from real observation. 
 The demon of luxury and idleness rules the Florentines 
 at the present time : like all the other nations of Europe, 
 I will not say that they do not believe, but they trust 
 little to a celestial Paradise ; they have built a new 
 terrestrial one without the tree of knowledge. It 
 matters little, if they pluck flowers of a day and let 
 them wither ; as long as they are renewed, it is enough; 
 whatever endures, wearies ; to live and enjoy comprises 
 the extreme limit of their wishes. Once the age 
 doubted between good and evil ; and this was surely a 
 great labor for both heart and brain, yet the labor itself 
 gave a proof of life : now the age believes, yes, believes, 
 but its belief is not in the good. We all live as if the 
 physician had given us over ; and it would seem as if 
 we feared that to-morrow the heavens might not cover 
 the earth: no more pyramids, no more obelisks; the 
 longest work we dare to undertake is making a garland 
 of flowers : the spider's web seems too secular a thing, 
 we form ourselves into a number of beings born to 
 devour the wheat. Let us then adorn the brows of our 
 heroes with poppies, let sleep be the Epic of our age, 
 yawning its history. Greater life awaits us in the grave 
 than on this earth, at least during the period of putre- 
 faction. No one can give us reasonable reproof: we 
 are for the age, the age for us : the niche and the saint 
 harmonize wonderfully. Why wear ourselves out in 
 procuring a fame we hate ? Why attend to studies 
 which make us doubt an existence, which we with all 
 kinds of violence try to steep in oblivion ? Our 
 children will grow up worse or better than ourselves : 
 
 9
 
 194 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 if worse, every argument will be in vain ; if 1 etter, 
 they will be ashamed of our miseries. Better then to 
 sleep, be silent, enjoy, and die. This is truly the triumph 
 of death ! 
 
 Two plates were placed opposite each other upon the 
 table. All was ready, and yet Cecchino seemed to have 
 no desire to taste the food he had craved ; he kept his 
 face turned towards the head of the table, and all at 
 once a tear trickled down his cheek, and he gave vent 
 to a deep sigh. 
 
 His wife, seeing this sudden despondency, said anx- 
 iously : 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! What is the matter ? What troubles 
 you, my dear ? Tell me quickly, do not keep anything 
 from your poor wife. . . ." 
 
 " Ah ! Mary, do you not remember when last seated 
 at this table we were three ?" 
 
 A long silence succeeded these words ; Mary was the 
 first to break it : 
 
 "Mother Laudomia has certainly gone to heaven. 
 With how much joy did she see her last hour ap- 
 proach ? How she talked with saints, who seemed near 
 her, to assist in her soul's transition. This life had be- 
 come a burden to her ; the sweet light of day no longer 
 cheered her loving eyes ; and your mother, Cecchino, 
 would never have seen your face again. She died as a 
 bride going to her nuptials, and happy in knowing you 
 so well trained in the way of the Lord, that nothing 
 would ever cause you to forsake it. Her last thought 
 was God's, her last but one yours. Tell him she en- 
 joined upon me in her last words tell him I bless him, 
 tell him his children shall honor him, because he was
 
 Jealousy. 1 95 
 
 kind to his mother ; and at last, when weary of life, his 
 mother shall await him in heaven. Therefore be com- 
 forted, and do not give way to sorrow. . . ." 
 
 " Certainly the good woman was old, and is now a 
 dweller in a heavenly home ; but it would have been a 
 great comfort to me if I could have seen her again . . ." 
 
 " And how do we know but while we are talking she 
 is near us ? If, as we believe, we are soul and body, 
 and that the soul feels love, may not God grant it to 
 return and visit persons and places that were dear to it 
 in this world? Console yourself, Cecchino; for time 
 passes, and it is not always the worst thing to die, 
 sometimes it is to live. . . ." 
 
 Cecchino at last began to eat, but the desire for food 
 had passed, so that the repast was soon finished ; per- 
 haps he drank, however, more than he meant. His 
 Avife, partly through curiosity, and partly to distract 
 his sad thoughts, turned the conversation upon the 
 Duke. 
 
 " The Duke has arrived, then ?" 
 
 " He has ; but I must look out for employment else- 
 where ?" 
 
 " Why ; has he sent you away ?" 
 
 " No, I left on my own account. . . . But you shall 
 hear : although I know it is best not to trust secrets to 
 women's ears, yet having always found you faithful and 
 discreet, I will hide nothing from you. The Duke has 
 come, and, as I believe, with bad intentions. We en- 
 tered Florence mysteriously, and silently, by night ; he 
 talked a long time with his brother-in-law, and went 
 cautiously afterwards to some rooms in the Casino of St. 
 Marco ; hu remained there alone, sending me with an-
 
 196 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 other follower to tell Lady Isabella that to-morrow, or 
 the day after, he would arrive : meanwhile we were to 
 watch every word and deed, then come and report it 
 carefully to him. . . ." 
 
 " For what reason ?" 
 
 " The reason is plain enough," replied Cecchino, low- 
 ering his voice ; " the rumor of Lady Isabella's way of 
 life has reached as far as Rome ; I firmly believe that 
 he has come to avenge his honor in the blood of his 
 wife ; and I would not give a ducat for the Duchess's 
 life from this time." 
 
 "But is there no way of saving this unfortunate lady?" 
 
 " None ; for it seems her brothers want to punish her 
 more than her husband ; besides, she should receive the 
 penalty due to her crime ; and if I, instead of going to 
 spy her actions, thus becoming a participator in her 
 death, staining my hands with her blood, have chosen 
 to take voluntary leave of the Duke, I do not for that 
 feel disposed to run any danger for one who does not 
 deserve it." 
 
 " Oh, how can you talk so ? Then the fair name of a 
 noble lady may be in the power of the first low fellow 
 who chooses to contaminate it ? Do you think that 
 merely the slanderous charge of so grievous a crime 
 must be revenged by so cruel a punishment ?" 
 
 " Conviction has no need of witnesses or instruments : 
 and when the people speak, God has spoken : if it is not 
 a wolf, it is the shadow of one." 
 
 "And supposing I allow, although against my will, 
 that she is guilty, tell me, who has given the Duke a 
 right upon the life of his wife ? Has this judge a clear 
 conscience ? Is the accuser himself innocent ? Has
 
 Jealousy. 197 
 
 this priest pure hands ? And if he is not innocent, why 
 dares he to judge and condemn in others the guilt he 
 has himself committed ?" 
 
 " Oh ! it is a far different thing in a man than in a wo- 
 man. She brings children into the family that should 
 never be there, divides property among persons with 
 whom it should never be shared : the suspected illegiti- 
 mate child is shunned by all ; they scorn him, and he 
 hates them ; and we have too often seen that these bad 
 buds bring forth in families bloody fruits." 
 
 " That is not so ; for do you ever see a man who 
 bringing forth children out of a house, abandons them ? 
 And if he does, the world blames him, and his con- 
 science reproves him for it ; and if he provides for them, 
 does he not unjustly diminish the property of his legiti- 
 mate children ? No ; equal are the duties, equal is the 
 crime, and equal should be the pardon or the punish- 
 ment." 
 
 " Yet it is not so, and I do not believe as you say. 
 There must be a reason for it, although I do not know 
 one. . . ." 
 
 " Listen, you cannot find one, because there is none ; 
 if there was, it would come into your mind spon- 
 taneously. Thinking within myself, I have seen that 
 the world rests upon certain principles, called truths : 
 some of them you can see and touch; and great 
 scholars as well as fools agree to them, and say it is 
 right ; others, though, are not understood, they seem 
 like alchemy, and we must distil our brains over them 
 to make them comprehensible. The first seem to me 
 lawful money, the second spurious ; the first comes from 
 nature, the second from artifice."
 
 198 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " Ah ! good women should not reason so skilfully, 
 but obey the laws men make for them. . ." 
 
 " A violent law, an unjust judge, a wicked punish- 
 ment." 
 
 " In God's truth, you have become such a reasoner, 
 that I am afraid. Who put such immodest words into 
 your mouth ?" 
 
 " Reason. . ." 
 
 "Or perhaps the necessity of defending your own 
 evil deeds ?" And maddened by anger, Cecchmo took 
 a knife from the table, and passing it through the table- 
 cloth, stuck it nearly an inch into the table. Poor 
 Mary, excited in favor of her mistress, took no notice 
 of this ; but with obstinate petulance continued : 
 "What deeds are you imagining? I tell you there 
 should not be two weights and two measures, and there 
 are not. . ." 
 
 " It is well. Although I have no other proof of your 
 own baseness, and the Duchess's also, than your pre- 
 sent boldness, it would be enough for me, perhaps 
 too much. Were these the joys, these the greet- 
 ings and the kisses, I looked for ? Alas, miserable 
 man ! . . ." 
 
 Mary, struck by the changed aspect of her husband, 
 asked what sudden thought had troubled him ; but he 
 paid not attention to her, and, like a man bewildered, he 
 murmured threateningly : 
 
 " Ah ! Titta, your words were true as gospel. And 
 I was going with so much joy to meet a beloved wife ! 
 Better for me if I had broken my legs ; were husbands 
 watch-dogs they never could be able to guard their 
 wives: the thieves would enter by the roof. I will
 
 Jealousy, 1 99 
 
 kill myself: everything in the world is over for me. 
 But you need not rejoice in my death, Mary ; No, I 
 vow to God my curse shall cleave to you like marrow 
 hi the bone. You have betrayed me, you shall be 
 betrayed ; unhappy days, a dark life and bitter death 
 await you " 
 
 In the midst of these laments, which passion drew 
 from him, the noise of a child crying was heard in the 
 next room, and an infantile voice called : 
 
 " Mama ! Mama !" 
 
 Cecchino's hair stood upright on his head like the 
 quills of a porcupine, his face was pale as a sheet, and 
 then turned as red as fire ; his lips trembled convulsively, 
 his eyes gleamed with evil passion, and overcome by a 
 brutal rage he seized Mary by the arm, and dragged her 
 into the next room. Scarcely had they passed the thres- 
 hold than a little child on the bed sat up, and stretching 
 its little hands joyfully towards Mary, cried again : 
 
 " Mama ! Mama !" 
 
 Cecchino, pale with rage, pushed Mary with so much 
 force from him that she fell against the bed, and upon 
 the child. 
 
 Overcome by surprise, anger, fear, and by the turn 
 of affairs, she could not utter a word : but her anger 
 soon gave place to pity. Her heart was almost broken 
 by so many conflicting emotions : she glided from the 
 bed, and knelt down, crossing her hands humbly, before 
 her angry husband. But he, becoming more enraged at 
 this act, muttered : 
 
 " No . . . you must die ... we must all die . . . there 
 is no pity ... I want none for myself. . . think then if 
 you deserve it ... or this viper. . ."
 
 2oo Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Mary sobbed : 
 
 " Cecchino ! . . . Cecchino ! . . . hear me," but could 
 say no more. 
 
 " Prepare to die . . . you have one hour . . . half an 
 hour ; . . . no, . . . only five minutes of life . . ." 
 
 " Hear me, ... let me speak. . . ." 
 
 " Make your peace with God ; . . . but it is useless ; 
 traitors cannot enter heaven. . . " 
 
 " I cannot. . ." 
 
 " Have you finished ?" 
 
 Mary, in agony, unable to utter a single word, made 
 n sign of denial with her hand ; and its expression was 
 indescribable. Ineffable sorrow oppressed her to think 
 that a few words might calm this tempest, soothe the 
 anger, save so many dear lives, and yet she could not 
 utter a word. Cecchino, as if possessed with a devil, 
 impatient of delay, his passions becoming more cruel in 
 the thought of bloodshed, could hardly wait, so anxious 
 was he to stain his hands with her blood. Poor 
 woman ! 
 
 " If you are not anxious to end this, know that I am 
 eager to begin. . ." 
 
 Unsheathing his dagger, he stretched out his hand to 
 grasp her. Mary, uttering a cry, fell senseless to the 
 ground. Cecchino, his heart closed to pity, did not 
 wait ; he bent down to plunge his dagger in her bosom, 
 and tearing her clothes aside, saw with wonder a letter 
 drop from them : fancying it might be from the hated 
 betrayer of his happiness, he was glad to think that now 
 his revenge might reach even him. Taking up the letter 
 and drawing nearer to the light, he read on the out- 
 side :
 
 Jealousy. 201 
 
 " To Her most Christian Majesty, Catherine, Queen 
 of France." 
 
 He thought he dreamed : he looked again ; it was 
 the same as before. He then opened the letter, and read : 
 
 " Most Honored as a Mother : Considering the hei- 
 nousness of my sins, and the punishment that may befall 
 me on this earth, striving to obtain through God's 
 infinite mercy that pardon which I humbly beg with all 
 my mind, I have decided not to avoid the fate, whatever 
 it may be, which Providence prepares for me. But in 
 following this decision, which my guardian angel seems 
 to have awakened within me, I cannot, nor ought I to 
 include in my ruin an innocent being, and one most 
 worthy of commiseration. I therefore confide this child 
 of my sorrow to your pity : remember that its cradle is 
 girded by serpents, and its life is like the life of a wild 
 beast of the woods, which every man thinks he has a 
 right and a reason to pursue. No less than the prudence 
 and authority of a wise and powerful Queen like yourself 
 is necessary to save this miserable being : except that I 
 have good cause to hope in the woman to whom I trust 
 this child : she leaves country, home, and kindred, to 
 console me with brief comfort, in order to consign him 
 to your Royal Highness's care, as his surest haven of 
 safety. This woman is my foster sister : born and 
 educated in the way of the Lord, I cast her off in my 
 hour of sin, and she returns voluntarily to me in that 
 of misfortune. The urgency of the case not admitting 
 of delay, she sets out alone by my eager request ; but I 
 Avill strive to have her dear husband join her shortly. 
 Both young and faithful, deserving of the kindness of 
 
 9*
 
 2O2 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 your Royal Highness, I pray you to give them the 
 greatest favors which your royal heart is so ready to 
 bestow on all, and especially to those who in the service 
 of your kindred and royal family assume a responsibility 
 in manifest danger of their own property and lives. I 
 have no more to say, except to beg your Highness, for 
 the love of Jesus Christ our Saviour, to take under your 
 protection this miserable being. God will give you 
 that reward w r hich I cannot. Look upon these words, 
 your Majesty, as on the dying ones of a relative ; this 
 is my testament ; and with this faith to die resigned 
 and contrite, who would else have ended her life 
 despairing and blaspheming. When your Highness 
 shall have received the news of my death, which I foresee 
 is inevitable, be pleased to remember me in your prayers, 
 and aid my soul. I wish you in this world all that hap- 
 piness which your glorious mind and magnanimous 
 heart knows so well how to create ; and kissing your 
 hands I sign myself a most unworthy, but yet affectionate 
 child of your Majesty, 
 
 " ISABELLA, DUCHESS OF BRACCIANO." 
 
 Cecchino perceived his error before coming to the end 
 of this epistle, his anger departed, and his heart, having 
 experienced so many passions, gave way in a burst of 
 tears. He put the letter aside ; he had already thrown 
 his dagger away, and turning with tearful eyes towards 
 Mary, raised her head, calling her by a thousand en- 
 dearing names. But the poor woman gave no sign of 
 life, and in her fall had struck so heavily that she had 
 bruised the skin behind her ear, causing it to bleed. It 
 seemed for a moment as if Cecchino was about to faint :
 
 Jealousy. 203 
 
 but the thought of providing for his wife's safety sus- 
 tained him : he carefully bound up the wound, placed 
 her upon the bed, and tried to restore her with water, 
 vinegar, burnt feathers, and all such means ; but she did 
 not revive. He then broke forth hi laments; sighed 
 and raised his eyes beseechingly towards heaven. 
 Desperate at last he lay down by her side, embracing 
 her, and bathing her with tears, covering her face with 
 kisses, and exclaiming between his sobs : 
 
 " Oh, God, let me die by her side !" 
 
 But God intended him no such misfortune, and scarce- 
 ly had he proffered these words, before Mary, uttering 
 a deep sigh, opened her eyes, forgetful of what had oc- 
 curred. Cecchino knelt before her, not daring to open 
 liis mouth ; and Mary, by degrees, began to recollect 
 past events, sat up, and seeing the letter, guarded so 
 jealously by her, open, turned towards Cecchino, and, 
 smiling languidly, said : 
 
 " Of little faith, why did you doubt ?" 
 
 Then looking towards the window, and seeing the 
 stars, added : 
 
 " Cecchino, we have no time to lose. They will come 
 for us in a few moments. While I dress the child you 
 must pack your own clothes, and sew the gold and 
 jewels of the Duchess among them : all the rest is pro- 
 vided." 
 
 Cecchino, having no will of his own, passively obeyed 
 her orders : so many, so various, and so deep had been 
 the passions he had experienced in such a short tune, 
 that he felt almost annihilated ; but whatever faculty of 
 thinking and wishing still remained to him, would not 
 have been opposed to the desires of his wife, who, ani-
 
 204 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 mated by the spirit of charity, sacrifice, and love, ap- 
 peared to him a being more akin to angels than mortals. 
 He loved and worshipped her as something holy. Of 
 such, and so sudden transitions is the mind capable in 
 this world ! Miserable intellects in the power of passion, 
 like a fragile skiff agitated by the tempestuous ocean, 
 we weep, we laugh, and, but this is more important, we 
 pass on to deeds, which as they take from us the dig- 
 nity of men, and peace of mind, also render us in this 
 life deserving of the scorn of men, and in the next of 
 God's disdain. 
 
 Mary was not deceived ; for a short time had scarcely 
 elapsed before two men appeared at the house door, 
 knocking cautiously, and saying in a low voice to Cec- 
 chino, who opened the window, to come down, for all 
 was ready. Mary went first with the child ; Cecchino 
 followed with a chest containing a few clothes. Taking 
 the first step out of the door he turned back, sighing : 
 
 " I leave you, never to see you again !" 
 
 When they had all descended, Mary, wondering not 
 to see Cecchino by her side, called him, and was about 
 to go back, when he came hastily, and said hi a low tone : 
 
 " I remembered my mother's rosary at the head of 
 the bed, and went back for it. If it had belonged to 
 your mother you would not have forgotten it." 
 
 Mary pressed his hand, for she knew she had no de- 
 fence, but the accusation pleased her. 
 
 They walked some distance hi silence, and fbund a 
 carriage waiting for them near the corner of the Giglio, 
 behind St. Lorenzo ; they entered it, and drove towards 
 the gate San Frediano. As they drew near it, one of 
 the men descended, and calling the gatekeeper, ex-
 
 Jealousy. 205 
 
 changed a few words with him, whereupon he opened 
 the gate. Then, turning back, told his companion to 
 descend, adding : 
 
 "You can go on now pleasant journey God be 
 with you." 
 
 Mary had already guessed, and the dawn which be- 
 gan to appear confirmed her supposition, this man was 
 the Knight Lionardo Salviati ; she, therefore, took cou- 
 rage to call to him, saying : 
 
 " Do me the favor of listening one moment, Sir ?" 
 
 And the Knight stopped to listen. 
 
 " Sir Lionardo," she murmured in his ear, " when you 
 see her, assure her that the child is safe : tell her also 
 my husband is with me, and she need trouble herself no 
 more about it. Save her, if you can, for her death 
 without your aid is certain. The property I have left 
 behind me, please tell your friend Don Silvano to sell, 
 and use it all in masses for the dead and . . . for the 
 dead, according to my desire." 
 
 " It shall be done." 
 
 Sir Lionardo then closing the door, ordered the driver 
 to proceed. Mary, in speaking of the dead, meant Isa- 
 bella ! But there still remaining to her a very faint ray 
 of hope, she did not wish to destroy it with this sad 
 commission : but she believed hi her heart that having 
 given it for her beloved dead, she included among them 
 the soul of poor Isabella.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE CONFESSION. 
 
 Venuta la mattina della Pasqna, la donna si Iev6 In su 1' anrora et acconciossi, 
 et andossene alia chiesa. II marito Uall' altra parte levatosi se ne and6 a quella 
 medesima chiesa, e fuvvi prima di lei e messasi prestamente una delle robe del 
 prete con un cappuccio grande a gote, couio not veggiamo che 1 preti portano, 
 avendosel tirato un poco innanzi, si mlse a sedere In coro. Ora venendo alia 
 confessione, tra le altre cose che la donna gli disse, avendogli prima detto come 
 
 maritata era, si fu che ella era inuamorata. Quando il geloso udi questo, 
 
 gli parve che gli fosse dato di un coltello nel cuore. 
 
 BOCCACCIO. Giornata VII. Novella V. 
 
 When Easter morning came, the woman rose at dawn, dressed herself, and 
 
 went to church The husband also arose, went to the same church, and 
 
 reached it before her He then put on hastily one of the priest's robes 
 
 with a large hood, such as monks generally wear, which he pulled somewhat down 
 
 over his face, and sat in the confessional Now when the woman caine 
 
 to the confession, among other things she said that, although she was .1 married 
 
 woman, yet she was desperately in love When the jealous husband 
 
 heard this, he felt as if struck by a dagger in the middle of his heart 
 
 TITTA finally arrived (since all, living or dead, must 
 come to some end) at the Duke's palace : he pulled the 
 bell-rope four or five times, but no one answered. " It 
 is evident," he said to himself, "that the husband is 
 away, and is not expected home ; and if husbands take 
 a notion to arrive suddenly, they must pay the penalty 
 of their rudeness : but I, not being a husband, will not 
 wait, but put a remedy to it at once." 
 And as well as he could he inserted his arm and part
 
 Isabella Orsini. 207 
 
 of his shoulder between the bars of the gate, and with 
 his fingers took the latch and opened it. This done, he 
 went softly to the porter's room, who, with elbows 
 stretched upon a table, and head resting on the back of 
 his hands, slept as soundly as a dormouse. The merry 
 fellow taking the horn, approached it so near the por- 
 ter's ear as to cover it entirely, and gathering all the 
 breath he could in his strong lungs, blew such a power- 
 ful blast as to make the whole palace shake from top to 
 bottom. I will not describe the tremendous scream the 
 porter uttered, nor what a leap he gave ; these are 
 tilings that can be better imagined than described : he 
 Avas neither alive nor dead ; he trembled all over, and 
 knew not in what world he was. Not a human crea- 
 ture or animal within the palace, or in the street, could 
 remain quiet in bed, but ran startled to see what was 
 the matter. 
 
 When Titta had collected nearly all the Duke's do- 
 mestics, he turned to the majordomo Don Inigo, and 
 said to him : 
 
 " I come by the orders of his Excellency the Duke ; I 
 haA'e this moment arrived from Rome, and haA~e a letter 
 which I must immediately consign into the hands of my 
 Lady the Duchess." 
 
 " You cannot present yourself in such a dress to our 
 lady ; you must clothe yourself properly, and then I 
 Avill announce you." 
 
 He then led him to a Avardrobe, and dressing him in 
 the Orsini livery, left him to wait until he could be 
 announced to her Ladyship the Duchess. 
 
 Isabella slept not : sleep for a long time had not 
 shaken its peaceful Avings over those unhappy eyelids ;
 
 208 The Confession. 
 
 and she would let it pass without even invoking it, for 
 if painful thoughts oppressed her while awake, horrible 
 phantoms afflicted her still more while asleep. She had 
 become now resigned to her imminent destiny, and 
 whatever happened could not disturb her ; she would 
 shut her eyes, and murmur in a low tone : In manus 
 tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum. She heard 
 the door of her room open, it seemed as if some one 
 had asked her whether he could come in, and she 
 replied with a motion, without knowing herself 
 whether it was consent or denial, so she was somewhat 
 amazed when, reopening her eyes, she saw a man with 
 one knee on the ground before her presenting a letter 
 upon a crimson velvet cushion. Educated as she was 
 in the dignified manners of the Court, she took the 
 letter with a certain princely haughtiness, and read it ; 
 then handing it to the majordomo, said : 
 
 " Place it in the archives. Rise, sir. Inigo, give this 
 soldier the usual courier's fee ; and double it, for the 
 news which he brings is very acceptable to me. Don 
 Inigo, in a few days, after so long an absence, we shall 
 see His Excellency the Duke. May God keep you in 
 His holy guard. Good night : go." 
 
 And when they had departed, Isabella, without heed- 
 ing if anyone could hear her words, rose from the couch 
 on which she was lying, and thus addressed Lady Lu- 
 crezia Frescobaldi, her lady in waiting : 
 
 " Lady Lucrezia, we are ready to take our departure, 
 so that it would seem better for us to be prepared by 
 taking the sacrament." 
 
 Lady Lucrezia belonged to that race of pale and 
 delicate creatures, who are accustomed to accompany
 
 Isabella Orsini. 209 
 
 the powerful : they come with fortune, and go with it ; 
 not because they are bad or ungrateful, but because it is 
 as innate in their nature as hi the heliotrope to turn to- 
 wards the direction of the sun ; they pertain to the 
 family of leaves, that are born in Spring, and fall in 
 Autumn. They possess no will of their own, incapable 
 of assent or denial ; their minds, like barometers modi- 
 fied by the impression of air, bend according to the 
 will of their masters. Such people have always been, 
 and are still, very dangerous, for if the great did not 
 meet with people ever ready to serve their wills, they 
 would not dare to act as we see them every day ; much 
 the less if they could find souls like that of the simple 
 Mary, who promise obedience, and give it, but do not 
 sell their conscience ; and when they reach that point 
 in which they must either displease the worldly master, 
 or the Lord of Heaven, they trust in Him who decks 
 the lily of the valley, and nourishes even the slothful : 
 poor and alone, they will start upon the desert of life, 
 exclaiming like the patriarch, Abraham : God will 
 provide 1 
 
 But the great rarely have friends, for if they had, 
 fortune would have granted them too large a share of 
 blessing. Let them take the example of that king of 
 Spain, if they desire to be in company with a friend ; 
 have their portrait painted together with a dog. 
 
 Lady Lucrezia, then, with her submissive air, 
 replied : 
 
 " Your Highness, do just what your heart dictates." 
 
 " Yes, I have decided to confess ; but I would like to 
 have some holy man, who would know how to comfort 
 my weary soul, and give rest to my mind, continually
 
 21 o The Confession. 
 
 assailed by doubts; do you know anyone able to do 
 that ?" 
 
 " I do not." 
 
 "Father Marcello, who is so reputed in the city, 
 might be a good counsellor." 
 
 " Yes, your Highness, I should think he might be." 
 
 " However, it would not be proper to send for him, 
 for perhaps he might not be disposed to come ; or 
 coming, it could not be done so secretly, that idle 
 people would not find it out ; and I desire above all 
 things secresy and discretion." 
 
 "You speak wisely, my Lady; for sometimes these 
 fathers have more pride under that sackcloth of theirs 
 than a Baron under a mantle of brocade." 
 
 "And going myself to church, I might easily be 
 known." 
 
 " That is very likely." 
 
 " Perhaps . . . to-morrow ... no, for it is already too 
 late, and I could not in so short a time collect myself, 
 and truly examine my soul . . ." 
 
 " Of course, in such a short time you would not be 
 able to remember all your sins . . ." 
 
 " What do you know about my sins ? And what, 
 and how many they are ? Who told you that it would 
 be difficult for me to remember them ?" 
 
 Lady Lucrezia, with too great a desire of pleasing her 
 mistress, according to the usual habit, assented where 
 she ought to have doubted. 
 
 The most wary courtier sometimes falls into this 
 error ; but if he grazes the boundary line, he rarely 
 stumbles so as to break his legs. 
 
 Lady Lucrezia might have answered :
 
 The Confession. 21 1 
 
 " Eh ! my Lady ! If I covered my face with my 
 hands, know that I happened to peep through the 
 fingers, and saw more than enough." 
 
 But, you may imagine, that even if she had the 
 power to conceive such thoughts, she would have put 
 them aside, as temptations of the devil ! 
 
 So she replied as from inspiration : 
 
 " For a dignified and pure conscience like yours, so 
 scrupulous of everything, making a mountain out of a 
 mole-hill I can well understand, that the examina- 
 tion of the conscience must be a very serious thing. . . 
 
 There are some, to be sure, not so particular But 
 
 for your Ladyship, it must indeed be a serious aflair. . ." 
 
 Are the fish-hooks as old as the hills? I believe 
 ever since Adam fishes have been caught by them. 
 Thus, although flattery is of very ancient date, and 
 although every man swears that he knows and detests 
 it, yet by means of flattery, men, and particularly 
 women, were always, and ever will be caught. Let him 
 who reads be persuaded, that it is our nature to re- 
 member experience and its admonitions, as much as we 
 remember the swallow that flew through the sky, or 
 the smoke that escaped from our chimneys ten years ago. 
 
 Isabella, although she had any other inclination than 
 smiling in her thoughts, yet could not help it on hearing 
 herself praised, and God knows with what justice. 
 
 " The day after to-morrow, then, we shall rise early, 
 and covered with a black mantilla go to the church of 
 Santa Croce, perform our devotions, and return unob- 
 served home." 
 
 " Yes, my Lady, it is a good idea, and a proof of your 
 good judgment."
 
 212 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " Very well ; let it be only between you and me, for 
 no living soul must know it. . ." 
 
 " As for that, your Highness knows my fidelity and 
 secresy. . ." 
 
 " Go to rest then, for it is already late, and to-morrow 
 I may cause you to be called early." 
 
 " May God keep you in His holy guard." 
 * * * * 
 
 Never did pilgrim touch more devoutly the holy 
 shrine of his pilgrimage, than Titta finally sat down at 
 table. It had been so well provided with food and 
 drink, that his hunger was soon satisfied ; but as to his 
 thirst it was a different thing ; for as flames increase 
 with the addition of fuel, so his thirst increased by 
 drinking. However, Titta was no man to allow wine 
 to take away from him the use of his brains : too large 
 a quantity would have been necessary for that ; he 
 drowned his wits in wine like ducks in a pond, or 
 rather like skilful swimmers, who, hardly touching the 
 bottom, return again to float on the surface ; and in this 
 half watchfulness of his thoughts, he showed himself 
 more than ever acute and malignant. It often happens 
 that the mind, when in the full exercise of its faculties, 
 has no power to imagine or define an object, which on 
 the morrow (the senses not yet returned to their usual 
 offices) is seen wonderfully distinct amidst the light 
 dreams that precede its awakening, as dawn precedes 
 the day. In the like manner we see men half drunk, 
 conceive and act better than if they were entirely sober. 
 
 The servants, seeing that he might never stop, had 
 gradually disappeared, and he, remaining alone with 
 Giulia as he desired, thus soliloquized :
 
 The Confession. 
 
 21 3 
 
 " Oh, Giulia ! oh, wine ! oh, cards ! oh, polar stars 
 of my life : what would the world become without you? 
 An extinguished lantern ; a candle without a wick, a 
 lamp without oil. If some one should say to me : You 
 must choose ; I would reply : I cannot ; because 
 Giulia is nothing without wine, and wine is nothing 
 without cards : and they are like Ser Cecco and the 
 Court of Berni. Ser Cecco cannot live without 
 the Court, nor can the Court live without Ser Cecco 
 
 They live necessarily together ; they all form a 
 
 single substance; they exist united like soul and 
 body. Take away the soul from the body, and you 
 would see the latter destroyed as Giulia would be 
 
 destroyed without wine, and wine without cards 
 
 Oh, Giulia !... 
 
 " I don't understand such nonsense ; and who knows 
 to how many women you have said all this before ; for 
 indeed your words seem to me like old clothes, that 
 through too much use fall to rags. . ." 
 
 " Oh, Giulia ! I swear to you as I am a gentleman, 
 foi de gentilhomme, as Francis First of France used to 
 say, that what I have said to you, I have never said 
 before to anyone. . ." 
 
 " Of course, to no one. . ." 
 
 "Believe me as you believe in bread. I feel like 
 an Etna in love, but I am firm as the Alps in con- 
 stancy. . ." 
 
 " You are adding insult to injury in order to flatter 
 a poor woman like me, who has already, I know not for 
 how many months, wept for you, and wished for you in 
 vain, wearying out with my prayers and vows all the 
 saints in heaven. . . ."
 
 214 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " Oh, Giulia ! 
 
 " And indeed in all this time there has been no want 
 of flatterers, who came around me, and promised me 
 great things ; but I cared little for them ; though I felt 
 sorry for a poor young man, who tried to make me love 
 him, and seeing that he could not succeed, drowned 
 himself in . . ." 
 
 " A butt of wine ! . . ." 
 
 " What, would you do me the wrong of not believing 
 me ? . . . 
 
 " But, Giulia, how can I believe such things, when you 
 yourself do not ? Be not angry, no ; come near me : 
 listen, when I embrace you it seems as if I was embrac- 
 ing the human race. Be not cross, no, my girl ; listen, 
 let us talk reasonably. I should like to repose after the 
 storms of life in a port of peace ; and you could repose 
 in it with me, because, Blessed Virgin ! where can I 
 find rest without you ? We must never speak of past 
 things : I celebrating a holy marriage with you, would 
 make of all your past life a great ablution in the waters 
 of the river Lethe. Years go by, Giulia, and we must 
 look to the future. . . ." 
 
 "But it seems to me that between my years 
 and yours there must be a difference of some dozen 
 years." 
 
 " Put aside such womanish frivolities, Giulia, and re- 
 member that you women are like flowers ; you grow 
 fast, and wither fast, and the best that remains of you is 
 memory. I asked you to talk seriously. I have already 
 served the Duke of Bracciano many years : I have re- 
 ceived several woxmds for him ; once, in the battle of 
 Lepanto, had it not been for me, a Turk would have
 
 The Confession. 215 
 
 cleaved his head like a reed, and yet I am still a soldier. 
 And would that it had ended here ; but I have always 
 seen carriage horses descend to a draw-cart ; and some 
 day or other we might find ourselves, before starting 
 for the great voyage, making our last resting-place in 
 the hospital of St. Maria Nuova. . . ." 
 
 " But how can we help this ? You resemble those 
 rats who wished to hang a bell around the cat's neck 
 
 5 
 
 " Woman, listen to me, for it has been proved that 
 we men possess a much greater understanding than 
 you. It would be necessary, then, to lay aside a little 
 pile of ducats, and try to get a little shop whereby to 
 carry on a good remunerative trade. You would at- 
 tend it, and I could help you in attending it, and strive 
 to do other business also." 
 
 " Didn't I say right, that you were telling the story 
 of the rats ? To do all these things there is need of mo- 
 ney. . . ." 
 
 " Certainly, and with your dowry . . .' 
 
 " I have no dowry . . ." 
 
 " No ? Oh, Giulia ! 
 
 " Oh, Titta ! 
 
 "Then the last word has been said between us. 
 Good-by . . . You towards Jerusalem, I towards Egypt, 
 as Arete said to Argante." 
 
 " But what, can't we get married without a dowry ?" 
 
 "No, we cannot; the dowry, Giulia, is as it were 
 the wedding-dress ; without it matrimony would seem 
 naked, and you can imagine how unbecoming it would 
 be to perform such a solemn rite ill-dressed. And if we 
 turn our thoughts to ancient times, we know that the
 
 21 6 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Muses remained spinsters at home because Apollo could 
 not afford any other dowry than laurel leaves. . . ." 
 
 " But you would not make me believe that you have 
 saved no money ; what have you done with it ?" 
 
 " All gone in pious works, Giulia, in works of cha- 
 rity; and my friends owe me a fortune. How can I 
 help it ? When I get money I cannot refuse them, and 
 thus I find myself short oftener than I would wish. . . . 
 However, they will repay me some time, but for the 
 present we cannot count upon them. . . ." 
 
 " Well, I cannot exactly say that I am penniless ; but 
 it is only a trifle. . . ." 
 
 " Every sprig helps to make a bush ; with work and 
 good will we can raise the cupola of the cathedral. 
 Now tell me how much have you saved? A thous 
 . . . ?" 
 
 " A hund . . ." 
 
 " Oh, Giulia ! 
 
 " About one hundred ducats. . ." 
 
 " Alas ! they are not enough !" 
 
 Giulia shrugged her shoulders. Titta, after remain- 
 ing thoughtful a while, continued : 
 
 "But one must never despair of one's country, as 
 Themistocles said : if you will help me, there is a way 
 to seize fortune by the hair. Listen attentively, wo- 
 man . . . You must know that the lord, my master, is a 
 revengeful man " 
 
 " All the worse for him. . ." 
 
 " A strange notion has got into his head : he thinks 
 the discoveries of Columbus, Americus, Cabot, Pigafetta, 
 and all others, but little compared to the wonderful one 
 he is about to make. And not only that : he intends
 
 The Confession. 217 
 
 that all the world should know it, and we must help 
 him in this discovery. . ." 
 
 " Oh, power of wine !" 
 
 " Woman, listen. This discovery consists in knowing 
 that his wife is unfaithful to him. He has already 
 received flying reports of it, but he wishes to know 
 them certainly, and touch with his own hands, as the 
 proverb says; then he will intrust this most beautiful affair 
 to the seven trumpets of fame, and I rather think that 
 he will have it published by Torrentino in octave 
 rhymes. . . Come nearer, for I wish to speak to you 
 lower. He, the Duke, has sent me on purpose to see 
 how things stand, and to report them to him ; and if I 
 carry to him a certain proof of it, he has promised me 
 three hundred ducats of reward, besides his everlasting 
 protection, and many other favors. . ." 
 
 " Are you in earnest ?" 
 
 "Tell me who is the Saint in whom you have the 
 most faith; and I will swear by him. So by your 
 telling me all you know, we shah 1 gain this money, 
 which together with your three hundred. . ." 
 
 " I said one hundred." 
 
 " One hundred then, with these three hundred, will 
 be enough to accomplish our plan of marriage." 
 
 Then the treacherous deceitful woman began to relate 
 all she knew (and she knew too much) in regard to her 
 mistress, who had always been kind to her more than 
 to any other servant ; and she added many things of 
 her own to make the matter worse ; finally she reported, 
 that listening, as she was accustomed to, at her mis- 
 tress's door, she had learned that on the next day, early 
 in the morning, she was t go to confess herself to 
 
 10
 
 21 8 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Father Marcello of St. Francesco. Titta thought now 
 that he knew a great deal more than he needed. The 
 woman did not stop chattering ; like the blind street- 
 musician, who, as the proverb says : " For a penny 
 begins, and for two never ends playing." Titta think- 
 ing that now it was of no use for him to watch any 
 longer, abandoned himself to the arms of Morpheus, 
 and the excited woman talked on before noticing that 
 her future husband slept profoundly. 
 
 " Think what it will be after we are married !" she 
 exclaimed; and spitefully giving him a push on the 
 shoulder, retired to her own room to sleep. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The blast which Titta blew from his horn, awakened 
 another person in the Orsini palace, and this was Troilo. 
 He felt his heart beat with anguish : he rose from his 
 bed into a sitting posture, and stood some tune irreso- 
 lute, and listening attentively to see whether he could 
 guess from the movement of the people what had hap- 
 pened ; and as all returned in a short time to its 
 previous silence, he collected courage enough to 
 dress, and descend cautiously to the Duchess's apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Come in," said Isabella with a firm and secure 
 voice, when she heard the knock at her door : and 
 Troilo entered. She, neither surprised nor fearful, 
 turned her eyes upon him, and tranquilly resumed her 
 former attitude. Troilo was the first to speak : 
 
 "Isabella, are you aware that Paolo Giordano is 
 about to return to Florence ?" . . . 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " How do you know it ?'*
 
 The Confession. 219 
 
 " By letters which he sent me, and in which he said 
 that he would be at home in a few days. . ." 
 
 " And did you read nothing else in these letters ?" 
 
 " Nothing else. . ." 
 
 " Indeed ! yet I know that there was written other 
 news, or at least you should have read it there." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " That on the arrival of Paolo Giordano you will die 
 by his hand." 
 
 " Let God dispose of me as it pleases Him. Troilo, I 
 am prepared to die. . ." 
 
 " What do you say ? You have an entire world 
 to travel before you : full of strength, of power, of 
 beauty, how can you consent to leave a scene where 
 you sustain your part so well ! When the fruit is 
 green, it should not be shaken from the tree of life. 
 And perhaps you never had a better time than this to 
 enjoy reasonably human gifts, for you are neither too 
 inexperienced to allow yourself to be carried away by 
 the illusions of youth, nor too hesitating, on account of 
 the weakness of declining years. Behold, the season to 
 gather the fruits of experience is just beginning for 
 you. . ." 
 
 " I am old, very old at heart, and love death more 
 than I ever loved a living being. . ." 
 
 " But you outrage Divine Providence, and yourself. 
 Don't give way to such sad dejection ; you may repent 
 it, when perhaps too late. Come, courage; cheer up 
 your spirit, for God's sake ! . . ." 
 
 Isabella turned her head, and fixing her eyes for some 
 time on Troilo, added : 
 
 "Thanks! Keep your courage to yourself; I have
 
 22O Isabella Orsini. 
 
 enough of it. Troilo, if it was not a firm deliberation 
 of my mind to remain here, do you think that I could 
 not devise some means to go away ? No ; escaping, I 
 would show to the world my shame; I would make 
 manifest that which is uncertain, or what very few 
 people know ; fear would say more than guilt, and 
 would increase the necessity of revenge. And besides, 
 in what place can I hide myself where the poniard, the 
 snare, or the poison of the assassin could not reach me ? 
 And when even I could find a place capable of pro- 
 tecting me, who could protect me against the disdainful 
 manner with which men give help, like crusts of bread 
 thrown to a beggar ? Who could protect me against 
 the bitter and incessant reproaches which would be 
 hurled against me, not because guilty, but because I 
 made public this guilt ? Who could protect me against 
 that pity which gnaws one's bones, and that compassion 
 which poisons the blood? Who could protect me 
 against the proud contempt, the bitter smiles, the 
 respectful sneers ? Oh, the thought alone chills my 
 very soul ! No, it is better to die with one blow than 
 be thus cruelly murdered under this martyrdom re- 
 newed from day to day, or rather from hour to hour, 
 from minute to minute. Prometheus certainly did not 
 choose life on condition that his bowels should be 
 devoured by the insatiable vulture." 
 
 " Your despair, Isabella, comes from not having been 
 able to imagine any other remedy but flight : there are 
 other means of escape. . ." 
 
 " I see none . . ." 
 
 " And surer ones . . ." 
 
 " If such ones that could surely save my honor ! . . ."
 
 The Confession. 221 
 
 " Be assured that there can be none more safe . . . 
 Paolo Giordano desires our death ; this is most certain. 
 Now, as we cannot remain in this world together 
 since one of us must choose a different abode, let him, 
 go who wishes to expel us ; not ourselves, who would have 
 willingly tolerated him in this world. . . ." 
 
 " And thus you would add homicide to shame. And 
 to amend one crime commit another, which is more 
 offensive to men and God ?" 
 
 " The one is the offspring of the other ; and necessity 
 excuses us ; for what precept or what law imposes on 
 us the duty of respecting a life which has changed into 
 a poniard to take our own ? Let us heed the dictates 
 of nature, a most merciful mother, who never fails ; 
 and she will say to you that between killing and being 
 killed, it is best to kill .. ." 
 
 " You strike me with horror." 
 
 " And why ? 
 
 "Because, if I question my heart, a voice cries to 
 me : What precept or what law ever allows us to pu- 
 nish him who did not commit the crime ? What justice 
 ever taught us to make a victim, because we committed 
 a crime ? No, laws are never perverted thus, neither 
 in this world nor the next . . ." 
 
 " Of the next world we will think by-and-by ; for the 
 present let us think of this. Isabella, you must have 
 learned from your father the secret of concocting some 
 beverage sweet to the taste, which puts one quietly 
 asleep . . . never to wake again . . ." 
 
 "Ah, wretched man! Would you renew the hor- 
 rors of the family of Atreus ? . . ." 
 
 " No, I do not intend to begin anything new, I only
 
 222 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 wish you to continue in the practice of domestic exam- 
 ples. . . ." 
 
 Isabella bent her head; then raising and tossing it 
 with a scornful look, replied resolutely : 
 
 " No, this crime shall not contaminate the pages of 
 history ; our family shall not have its Clytemnestra, 
 and if you design such a wretched attempt against the 
 life of your cousin, beware ! I \vill defend him with all 
 my powers, even with my own life. . . ." 
 
 " Isabella, you cannot separate your fate from mine : 
 love bound us willingly together for a short time ; crime 
 binds us unwillingly with an indissohible tie . . ." 
 
 " These are the ties of cowards ; I am not afraid, and 
 I break them . . ." 
 
 " I know well enough that you are not afraid, but I 
 know too well also in what you trust . . . You have 
 hopes in pardon ; you put faith in your cunning words, 
 in your art of dissimulating, in the pleasures of your 
 caresses . . . Yes, wretched woman, you trust to your 
 arts, and if, hi order to secure your peace and safety, a 
 sacrifice and a victim is wanted, behold, my head is des- 
 tined for the expiation of all. . . ." 
 
 " Then fly, save yourself elsewhere. Have you need 
 of means? I can give you all you desire take all 
 which I have in money and jewels for the journey 
 which I am about to take, money is of no use." 
 
 " If you fear assassins, you, a cousin of Catherine of 
 France, how can I save myself from them I, without 
 any protection ? If you are saddened by the thought 
 of receiving insufficient, feeble, and even bitter help, 
 how can I hope to have it abundant, efficacious, or 
 agreeable ? It is in vain for you to pretend generosity
 
 The Confession. 223 
 
 when it is of no avail, and advise plans which are not 
 safe. I see no other way here but poison . . ." 
 
 " And I swear to you, upon my word, that Giordano 
 shall live. . . ." 
 
 " No, you must poison him. . . ." 
 
 " If you did not excite my compassion, you would 
 certainly excite my scorn . . ." 
 
 " Indeed ? Then listen. We have a son. I already 
 foresaw your treacherous obstinacy. You had better 
 remove this shadow of repentance, shameless woman ! 
 and know that you will not wash out your stains with 
 my blood ! We have a child : I have already sent for 
 him, and if you do not consent to save me and save 
 yourself also, I will throw it murdered into your arms 
 before morning. When Giordano is dead we can marry, 
 not because we can ever love each other ; for, if you 
 hate me, it is well that you should know also that I 
 hate you no less ; but to appease the impudent pride of 
 your haughty brothers, who dare to think there is no 
 nobility in the world equal to their own, who were mer- 
 chants yesterday, and now threaten our lives. . . . You 
 may willingly reside far from me, as I, with all my heart, 
 swear that I will go thousands of miles from you . . ." 
 
 While Troilo with fierce passion was proffering these 
 words, Isabella showed from time to time signs of im- 
 patience, rage, and intense desire to retort against the 
 villanous knight ; but with great effort she repressed 
 her words, and when he finished, feigning in her aspect 
 and voice a calmness which she was certainly far from 
 feeling, replied : 
 
 " You are an excellent and affectionate father indeed, 
 who calls to mind his children only to murder them !
 
 224 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Troilo, the heart of a woman may err, and be deceived 
 when she is in love, but it is not deceived, nor does it 
 err when she becomes a mother. You rely in vain on 
 your cruel designs : your child is now where he has no 
 fear of your paternal caresses . . ." 
 
 " Even my child you have taken from me ?" 
 
 "And dare you to complain that I have saved him 
 from your parricidal hands ?" 
 
 " Restore me my child ! Restore me my child ! Or 
 I will tear your heart out . . ." 
 
 " Strike ! . . ." And Isabella, pale as death, but yet 
 calm, opened her arms, and offered her breast to him. 
 Troilo stood thoughtful awhile, and then murmured : 
 
 " What is her death to me ? I wish to live. . . ." 
 
 And he replaced his dagger. Then suddenly, as a sail 
 blown by a strong wind falls at its cessation flapping 
 against the mast, so his coward heart, entirely deprived 
 of constancy, was cowed down ; a sudden and great 
 change worked within him, and from bold he became 
 humble. Then with downcast eyes and low voice, turn- 
 ing to Isabella a face which he endeavored to render 
 suppliant, but was abject, resumed : 
 
 " Ah ! Isabella ; forget, I beg you, all that passion 
 poured from my lips : when the blood rises to the head, 
 man knows not what he says or does ; if you only will 
 it so (the heaven having granted you such great gifts 
 of persuasion, beauty, and grace) Paolo Giordano will 
 not imbrue his hands in your blood. Ah ! in obtain- 
 ing your pardon, obtain mine also ; or if, wary as you 
 are, you see that it would be of use to deny, deny ; do 
 not doubt of my discretion, for it is a great stake ; at a 
 suitable time, with your help, I will take leave of this
 
 The Confession. 225 
 
 fatal house, and return to the army, where by this time 
 I might have acquired a distinguished name and rank. 
 Promise me, Isabella. Can I rely on you ? Speak, 
 oh, speak ! Do not leave me thus upon thorns : my 
 soul is overcome with inexpressible grief; remember 
 that I am the father of your child. . . ." 
 
 " It would have been better not to remind me of it, 
 Orsini ; indeed it would have been better. Neverthe- 
 less, in the same manner in which I would have de- 
 fended Paolo Giordano, I shall defend you. Certainly 
 I will not tell falsehoods, but if the guilt can be excused, 
 I will certainly do it for all our sakes ; and if God gives 
 me life, I will endeavor to obtain, if not pardon, mercy. 
 There can never be happiness for me again in this 
 world ; yet I shall deem myself less unhappy, knowing 
 you prosperous. Now go, Troilo ; I have need of 
 peace. . . ." 
 
 And Troilo, bowing his head, with his arms folded 
 upon his breast, departed. 
 
 Isabella followed him with her eyes, and held them 
 fixed a long time at the door from whence he had gone 
 out : suddenly, striking the palm of her hand upon her 
 forehead, she exclaimed : 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! for what a man have I lost the honor 
 of a woman, the dignity of a princess, and my own 
 salvation ! . . ." 
 
 ******** 
 
 It was a clear and serene night in July ; the stars 
 revolved in their celestial spheres, pouring a dew of 
 light upon this earth, which does not deserve such 
 smiles of love. The times, places, things, and men, 
 which you saw then, ye pure rays of light, have returned 
 10*
 
 226 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 dying from whence they had sprung before their birth : 
 many and many more men and centuries shall you see ; 
 but will that light which emanated from you last for 
 ever, or, like all other fires, will it be extinguished ? It 
 is written, that one day God will shatter into atoms, 
 never again to meet, this mass of bloody clay which we 
 call earth ; and it will be well, for we almost wish that 
 it had already happened: but it is also written, that 
 your loving eyes shall be extinguished, and God will 
 close your eyelids like maidens dead in the midst of the 
 joys of life. The voice of the Eternal, like unto the 
 roaring of a thousand oceans in the storm, will return to 
 peal throughout the endless solitude of darkness and 
 abyss. Of so immense a variety of created things there 
 will not remain an echo, nor a memory, nor even a 
 shadow ; as the eye seeks, and finds not the drop fallen 
 into the sea ; as the eye seeks, and finds not the star 
 which falls from the firmament in summer nights ; so 
 time will be hurled into the depth of eternity ; this 
 terrible mother will smother her child pressed in her 
 arms, and will bury him in her bosom. Oh, Lord ! 
 How can man, thinking on the death of the stars, foster 
 evil designs in his heart? Thousands of ages will j>nss 
 away before the stars will cease to proclaim in the 
 heavens the glories of God ; and thousands of ages 
 before this shall happen, this body of mine, . separated 
 into innumerable particles, will be laid waste through the 
 kingdoms of nature. Nevertheless, thinking that one 
 day you must perish also, beautiful lights of love, my 
 spirit is disheartened, and it seems an almost impossible 
 thing to conceive, how men, creatures of a moment, 
 meeting upon this earth which passes away with them,
 
 The Confession. 227 
 
 instead of raising their hands in enmity against each 
 other, should not exchange friendly greetings, and dis- 
 appear into eternity ; a light shadow fleeting away, 
 but at least a happy one. 
 
 On such a night, a man creeping like a snake, his 
 body shrinking, grazing the walls, hiding himself in the 
 thickest darkness, and raising his head sometimes to im- 
 precate the distant ray with which the stars smiled upon 
 this miserable earth, hastened towards a certain place. 
 This place was the convent of Santa Croce. Arriving 
 at the gate of the cloister, he pulled the bell-rope softly, 
 restraining the ardent desire he felt to give it so strong 
 a pull as to awaken the whole convent: he stood 
 listening through the cracks of the door, and as he 
 heard no one moving, he rang again : and he repeated 
 it thus four or six times, and was beginning to lose all 
 patience, when he thought he heard footsteps approach- 
 ing ; he then, assuming a devotional attitude, stood 
 waiting composedly. A bold hand opened the door 
 deliberately : and, considering the times, it was not a 
 little boldness, for they lived in such suspicion then, 
 that to open at such a late hour would have required 
 many signs and explanations, as is the custom in a 
 besieged fortress ; at the same time a bold yet pleasing 
 voice said : 
 
 "Deo gratias: what do you desire in the holy name 
 of God..." 
 
 " Reverend Father," replied the unknown, " God at 
 this moment is calling to Himself a great sinner. As 
 all knots come to the comb, thus in this hour return to 
 his mind all his crimes committed, and he despairs of 
 the Divine mercy, curses the day and hour in which he
 
 228 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 was born, and is running the imminent danger of dying 
 unrepentant. . ." 
 
 " Unhappy he, because he has sinned ; more unhappy 
 still, because he despairs of the Lord's mercy ! . . ." 
 
 " Indeed I tried to persuade him that it was so ; but 
 as I am ignorant of divinity, I saw that my words had 
 but little eflect : nevertheless, I did not cease praying 
 with him, and strove to console him by saying that 
 at last all would be settled rightly, and that God, who 
 is old, has seen so many and many crimes, that now He 
 cannot be so very particular about them, and that a good 
 repentance, but of the real kind, would wash out mere 
 sins than perhaps his own. . ." 
 
 " Certainly, the power of repentance is very great, 
 and God as a good shepherd labors principally after the 
 lost sheep." 
 
 "But the dying man said: Who would dare to 
 present my soul to God, without fearing that He would 
 cover His eyes with His hands ? Who will utter for me 
 one prayer, without fearing the gates of heaven will be 
 closed in his face ? Only one . . . only one just man I 
 know in the world, who could inspire me with a hope 
 of faith . . . but it is too late ... he would not come . . . 
 at this hour he is refreshing with a short rest his limbs 
 worn out in the service of God . . . Alas, it is too late ! 
 And uttering piteous cries, he tossed raving upon the 
 bed. Finally, I succeeded with pain to extract from 
 his mouth the name of this venerable man, who it cannot 
 be denied is a most holy and learned one, for he is the 
 Reverend Father Marcello, whom may God always keep 
 prosperous and happy. And although it was a late 
 hour, yet I thought best for me to come for him, hoping
 
 The Confession. 229 
 
 the grace may be granted me of contributing towards 
 the salvation of a sinful Christian. . ." 
 
 As the monk stood thoughtful, and did not reply, the 
 man continued, making studied pauses between one 
 word and another : 
 
 " Besides, as the dying man is immensely rich, and a 
 great merchant, nor having, that I know, any children, 
 or relatives, except very distant ones, I thought he 
 might leave large sums of money to be expended in 
 pious works, alms, funerals, and so forth . . ." 
 
 The friar, however, had not paid any attention to the 
 final argument of this man : but suddenly, as if recol- 
 lecting himself, said : 
 
 " We can die but once after all ; and the best death 
 is certainly that which we meet in the service of God. 
 This life of suspicion seems a continual death. Good 
 man, you in the simplicity of your heart gave advice 
 like the most learned of the Fathers of the Church. 
 God gave equal remuneration to the workmen who came 
 early, as to the others who came towards evening to his 
 vineyard. Charity does not look at the watch ; and the 
 brightest hour for her is that in which she is able to 
 bring move aid to the poor afflicted people. Charity 
 done in the dark of night is that which is more clear to 
 the eye of God. The house of the Lord is never empty : 
 knock, and it shall be opened to you : the fountain of 
 heavenly mercy never fails : ask, and it shall be given 
 you to drink ; the blood of our Redeemer pours an 
 everlasting ablution for repentant and humble souls. 
 Indeed, the times are full of danger, and invisible hands 
 strike at the ministers of the gospel. Religion is now 
 groaning over the blood of the martyrs, which is
 
 230 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 drenching the earth without bearing fruits. And there 
 are those who wish Religion as a servant, or rather 
 accomplice, and presume to put on her their livery ; to 
 substitute on the stole their coat-of-arms instead of the 
 Cross, and enrol her as a man-at-arms. May God avert 
 such infamy ! Religion has the mission of interposing 
 between the oppressed and the oppressor, to save the 
 former beneath the folds of her sacred mantle, to look 
 on the face of the latter, to hurl the anathema against 
 him, and drag him by the hair before a tribunal where 
 he is but dust. . . But this city has stoned its prophets ; 
 the angels wept when they saw Friar Girolamo 
 Savonarola burned by the people, and a lamentation 
 was heard through the heaven, saying : Oh, Lord, oh, 
 Lord ! Has the end of the world come ? Like the 
 services of the Holy Week at the end of each psalm 
 they extinguish a light ; and when they are all out, there 
 is darkness, and how horrible ! You might deceive me : 
 Judas betrayed Christ, kissing him ; but I had rather be 
 betrayed once, than suspect all my life . . . Go on, good 
 man ; I will follow you. . ." 
 
 " What, is it you ? . . . 
 
 " I am Father Marcello. The others sleep, but to me 
 the Lord said : Watch, for your life will be short, and 
 you will soon sleep your last sleep in the grave. Prayer 
 is my bride, preaching my sister, tears my pleasure. . ." 
 
 And shutting the door behind him, he followed the 
 steps of the unknown man. 
 
 The unknown, who (since I do not wish to keep my 
 readers in suspense) was Titta, walked with his eyes on 
 the ground, and took tottering steps like one strongly 
 excited by some passion ; and it was so. He, who had
 
 The Confession. 231 
 
 spent so many years of his life in doing evil, now, in a 
 short space of a few hours, saw fortune place before him 
 two generous souls, that of Cecchino, and Father Mar- 
 cello's ; so that when he least expected it, a doubt arose 
 in his mind, which perhaps had continually escaped him 
 all his lifetime : and without understanding it, their 
 dignity seemed to him a wonderful fact. Besides, that 
 ready and spontaneous trusting in him, so little worthy 
 of trust ; the honest boldness which springs from feeling 
 ourselves innocent ; the forgetfulness or contempt of 
 any danger when there was a case of doing a work of 
 charity, agitated him with such new and deep senti- 
 ments, that he could not account for them. What, 
 without seeming at all impossible, will appear wonderful 
 to the subtle scrutinizes of human nature, was, that 
 while he proceeded with the full deliberation of accom- 
 plishing his planned snare against the poor friar, he 
 begged his guardian angel that he might prevent him, 
 and sought in the bottom of his heart the trace of some 
 virtue, which would serve him as an anchor, in which 
 he might trust in order to save himself from ship- 
 wreck. 
 
 Father Marcello, although ignorant of the streets of 
 Florence, yet perceived that he had made him cross the 
 same street twice ; he therefore touched his conductor 
 lightly upon the shoulders, saying : 
 
 " Brother, mind the road." 
 
 " Ah ! You are right ; I had got so absorbed in my 
 own thoughts, that if you had not roused me, I know 
 not when I should have come to my senses again ; and 
 in order that it may not happen again, be kind enough 
 to reply to some doubts which I have in my mind.
 
 232 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 N"ow, Father, tell me, where do you think we shall be 
 carried with all these contentions about Religion ?" 
 
 "It would be too long a subject to discuss; but I 
 have faith that it will lead to good. For my part I 
 believe Luther is a Cerberus, who barks because they do 
 not throw him the bone : but he bit the leaves, not the 
 root ; he tore the fringe, but not the cloth. He is as 
 tiresome as a criticism, and lasts only because the fault 
 lasts : if the Church only purify herself in the mystic 
 waters, Luther and all the renovators would at once 
 fail. Already they do not agree among themselves in 
 building the new Babel ; the ancient miracle of the con- 
 fusion of tongues is again commencing, they all run 
 through paths where there is no exit. These troubles 
 will pass, but before'they pass, I fear a great many other 
 new ones will be added : when the human intellect has 
 rebelled against authority, it must wear itself out in the 
 path of proud reasonings. Imagining that superstitions 
 and errors are the necessary evils of religion, they will 
 all join together to destroy them ; and I foresee these to 
 be days full of sorrow : I foresee again renewed the 
 vinegar and gall, the thorns, the blows, the nails, and 
 the spear-wound of Christ ; I see doubt as a wind coming 
 from the desert withering the harvest of Faith, Charity, 
 and Hope. But since man cannot reach the celestial 
 seats with the simple light of reason, he will stand 
 appalled in contemplating hi the heaven an abyss like 
 hell, and shall feel again the need of a God, who may 
 have had grief, love, and feelings of humanity, and will 
 seek Christ again, who, as it is said He did with St. 
 Francis, will unloose his arms from the cross to embrace 
 him. Thus, religion becoming again the bridesmaid of
 
 The Confession. 233 
 
 human souls, after having espoused them in this world 
 with the ties of love, will direct them towards the 
 eternal home to which we all aspire, which is in 
 heaven." 
 
 "These seem to me things that may happen some 
 tune or other at the last judgment. Let us leave hea- 
 ven, for, as you say, it would be a long discourse ; but 
 of this earth, of this which we call our country, this 
 Florence, this Italy, what do you think ?" 
 
 " My son, she is dead ; no, not dead . . . the sleep 
 which oppresses her has the appearance of death . . . 
 but this sleep is so heavy that it seems to me that with- 
 out a miracle of God she can never awake again. 
 Know, know, my son, that oppressors cannot tyrannize, 
 if the oppressed do not consent to be tyrannized over ; 
 nor does the difficulty consist in taking away the tyrant, 
 but in the virtue of the citizens in maintaining them- 
 selves in freedom and honest fellowship. This city, at 
 the time of the death of Alexander, showed how a peo- 
 ple can remain slaves, although the tyrant be dead ; 
 and this is what regards national independence : as to 
 foreign independence, God is strong, and takes part 
 Avith the strong. These foolish people think to get rid 
 of Spain by means of France, of France by means of 
 Spain, and they stretch their hands humbly now to the 
 latter, now to the former, those hands which should 
 have been armed to threaten and to strike both of 
 them. Out icith the barbarians ! cried the glorious 
 Pontiff Julius II. ; and the barbarians were all those 
 who were not born in Italy. Oh, foolish people ! who 
 believe that the chivalry of Spam or France are going 
 to leave their splendid castles, their wives and children,
 
 234 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 encounter the perils of the sea, climb over the precipi- 
 tous summits of the mountains, and come in your coun- 
 try merely to fight a tournament, and give the reward 
 of it to you lazy men, who stand looking on. Oh, 
 fools! the people who know not how to defend the 
 home which nature has given them, are not worthy of 
 possessing it : the world belongs to those who take it ; 
 thus has the law of destiny decreed. Louis XI. made 
 France a united and strong kingdom ; Charles V. had 
 the same idea with regard to Germany and Spain. The 
 over-rated Lorenzo dei Medici, what did he accomplish ? 
 "With jugglers' tricks he kept in discordant equilibrium 
 the remnant of a people. It was not a monument, but 
 a pasteboard statue ; and the first wind that blew from 
 the Alps overturned it : Charles VIII. rode over Italy 
 with wooden spurs. Now we are broken into frag- 
 ments. The Italian people stood watching the death 
 of the Florentine Republic like a fighting gladiator : at 
 her glorious death all applauded, no one helped her ; 
 and falling, the Republic wrote with its blood upon the 
 arena a cruel sentence, and which shall come to pass : 
 You also will fall, but infamously. Venice believes her- 
 self seated upon a throne, but she is sitting instead 
 upon the grave which shall cover her. Genoa, like the 
 swallow having made its nest in a lofty place, imagines 
 itself secure, and does not think of the hunter's arrow, 
 that reaches even to the clouds ... I breathe an air of 
 tombs, I trample an earth of churchyard. . . ." 
 
 " Then, Father, if it is so, allow me to quote a pas- 
 sage, written some hundred and more years ago by a 
 worthy priest and canon of the Church, who had more 
 brains than a thousand such as I, which said :
 
 The Confession. 235 
 
 fools and blind, to labor night and day, 
 In fruitless toil, when soon around our clay 
 Our mother's cold embraces shall be thrown, 
 Our deeds forgotten, and our names unknown !* 
 
 " Mark, however : first, heaven has not granted me 
 the gift of prophecy, and as I may perchance be mis- 
 taken, thus it behooves us to do what is right without 
 giving ourselves the thought of what may happen ; 
 secondly, that I once heard from my teacher, that a 
 God and a people, although dead, cannot long remain 
 within the sepulchre ; and in truth, our Saviour only 
 remained in it three days. The days of the people are 
 indeed centuries ; but men pass away like shadow*, hu- 
 manity remains. Every good seed brings forth good 
 fruit before God, and at its proper tune will sprout to 
 enliven the earth ; if we shall not eat of it, let us save 
 it, for our children shall. Thirdly, I told you that I 
 deemed her not dead, but oppressed by mortal lethargy. 
 It would avail me nothing, and in truth I hate to spend 
 the life which God has granted me in sculpturing a 
 splendid marble tomb, to place within it the corpse of 
 Italy, and then deck myself in majestic funeral clothes, 
 light candles upon golden candlesticks, fill the censers 
 with perfumes, and chant with divine notes the prayers 
 for the dead. This I hate, although I see it done, with 
 infinite bitterness to my soul, by men of noble talents 
 but feeble hearts. . . . Have you ever heard about Queen 
 Joanna, the mother of Charles V. ? When her husband 
 
 * ciechi : il tanto affaticar che giova ? 
 Tutti torniamo alia gran madre antica, 
 E il nome vostro appena si ritrova, PETEAKCA.
 
 236 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Philip, whom she loved so much, died, she would not 
 allow him to be buried, but had him embalmed, and 
 placed him upon a rich bed of black velvet, and as long 
 as she lived she sat at his side, watching from time to 
 tune if he would not awake : this was charity and insa- 
 nity. I imitate this charitable example wisely, since I 
 do not consider our country dead, but as if asleep by 
 enchantment ; and I watch her day and night, uttering 
 over her the words of love, but oftener still of grief and 
 anger ; at times with reviving salts, or other stimulants, 
 I endeavor to recall her to life ; at other times I thrust 
 my hands in her hair, or put to her lips a living coal as 
 God gave to Isaiah, or I pierce her flesh near the heart 
 to see if from thence gushes out living blood. Indeed 
 . . . indeed, so far my words have been in vain, and en- 
 tire locks of her hair have remained in my hands . . . 
 But if when about to awaken, these words of anger, 
 grief, and love, these deeds of charity or disdain should 
 be able to break this lethargy from her head for one 
 moment, or even a second before the time fixed by fate, 
 would not my life, the lives of a hundred citizens be 
 well spent ?" 
 
 " This friar's brains," thought Titta to himself, " seem 
 to me like a windmill ; but even such mills, when the 
 weather is propitious, grind gram, and well too. To get 
 rid of all this talk, there is no other way but to pull the 
 hood over his mouth ; and yet he seems to me a great 
 and noble soul ; Aretino was not worthy of tying his 
 shoes. However, there is no longer time to change my 
 mind, and I must leave the moth-eaten beam for fear the 
 house should fall . . . Here we are at the place ! . . . 
 Truly, I commit a great treachery ; but thrown upon
 
 The Confession. 237 
 
 the heap of ray other bad deeds, it will not increase the 
 ] ile much. And besides, woe to him who shall dare to 
 harm a hair of his head . . . After all, it is no great 
 thing ; a few hours of seclusion, with the best comforts 
 which one can desire . . . And then I will ask his par- 
 don, . . . and he, as he is so very kind, no doubt will 
 grant it to me." 
 
 Thus ruminating within himself, Titta perceived that 
 they had reached the appointed place, which was the 
 corner of the street Mandorlo ; then, putting two 
 fingers into his mouth, he gave a sharp whistle, and 
 suddenly, without knowing whence they came, as if 
 detaching themselves from the walls of the houses, four 
 men appeared, who surrounded the friar. Father Mar- 
 cello started, overcome by surprise, stretched his hand, 
 and grasped strongly the arm of Titta, saying with an 
 excited voice : 
 
 " You betray me !" But checking himself, he added 
 in a milder tone : "May God forgive you. Doming in 
 manus tuas commendo spiritum meum." 
 
 " Xo, my good Father, do not doubt me ; I do not 
 wish to do you any harm. I swear it to you by the 
 holy Madonna Nunziata, who being so near, as you may 
 see, I might almost say, she hears me. We have no 
 need of your life, but only of your gown. We only 
 wish to become yourself for a little while, without your 
 ceasing to be what you are. You shall be carried back 
 in due time to the convent, without any harm being 
 done you. Meanwhile, you cannot proceed without you 
 allow us to bandage your eyes." 
 
 "Do as you will. . .Many more insults did my 
 Divine Master suffer for our sake. I grieve not for
 
 238 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 myself, but for the poor souls of those for whose ruin I 
 see you are plotting some work of darkness." 
 
 And he offered his head to be bandaged, desirous of 
 avoiding as much as possible the contact of those vile 
 men. This done, and after they had assured themselves 
 that he could not see, they conducted him to the square 
 of the Nunziata, where they made him turn round many 
 times in order that he might not recognise the way that 
 they intended to take him; then they went along the 
 via Studio, and the square of St. Marco, and entered 
 into the Casino. 
 
 Having conducted him into a room prepared for the 
 occasion, which looked upon the gardens where the 
 windows had been strongly barred and nailed on the 
 outside, Titta hesitating, his heart almost failing him for 
 the shameless deed, said in a low voice : 
 
 "Father, you must allow me to remove your 
 gown." 
 
 " Beware, you would commit a sacrilege, and if God 
 should strike you now with sudden death, your soul 
 would be irreparably lost." 
 
 " Father, in primis, I protest that I am not doing 
 this for your injury; besides, I solemnly promise to 
 restore it to you within a few hours ; and finally, as the 
 weather is so very warm, I cannot understand how a 
 man can commit such a heavy sin in freeing you for a 
 little while of such heavy hair-cloth." 
 
 " When I put this garment on, I swore that I would 
 never lay it aside during my lifetime." 
 
 " And you do not break your oath, because you suffer 
 violence, and your will does not consent to it."
 
 The Confession. 239 
 
 " But why do you use violence against me ? In what 
 have I offended you ? I never saw you before." 
 
 " Oh, Father, you ought to perceive that I am forced 
 by others to do you violence." 
 
 " If you know evil, why do you not abstain from 
 it?" 
 
 " It would have been difficult before now : but now 
 impossible." 
 
 " Miserable man ! I pity you. When you shall have 
 brought me back this garment, it will be stained with 
 blood : perhaps it will not be seen in the eyes of men, 
 but God will see it : a Christian soul shall then stand 
 before His throne, asking for vengeance, . . . and he will 
 have it." 
 
 " And would that it were the only one !" muttered 
 Titta. "Father, it is getting late; give me your 
 gown." 
 
 " No, rather take my life." 
 
 " I told you that we needed your garment, and not 
 your life : I beg you with all my strength, and humbly 
 beseech you not to force us to put our hands upon you. 
 Take away the necessity of resorting to this extreme ; 
 we also are obeying those who are more powerful than 
 we. And if we did not obey, we should all be 
 killed." 
 
 " Well, tear it from my back, then ; and may God 
 reward him who is the cause of it, according to his 
 deserts." 
 
 Titta and the others closed around the friar, who 
 resisted ; but he was soon overcome, being but weak, 
 and his adversaries too numerous. Having taken his 
 gown, they went off hastily, like wolves having stolen
 
 240 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 the prey, to hide themselves in their cave ; and Father 
 Marcello, noticing from the silence that he was alone, 
 took off his bandage. 
 
 Turning his eyes around, he saw a room adorned with 
 splendid pictures, and fine works of sculpture both in 
 marble and in bronze ; he saw also a magnificent bed, 
 a table loaded with various kinds of food and wines, and 
 chandeliers which shed a brilliant light : but he turned 
 his saddened eyes from all these things, and rested them 
 upon &prie-I>ieu, where was a crucifix and book, which 
 from the size he soon recognised as a missal. With 
 his heart full he threw himself at the feet of the crucifix, 
 and burst into bitter tears. 
 
 He wept, for although he was a pious man, yet he was 
 flesh and blood like all Adam's children ; he wept for 
 the atrocious injury which he had suffered, and the 
 sacrilegious attempt ; he wept for the offence done to 
 God; he wept for the soul or souls of those against 
 whom he plainly saw some treacherous deed was about 
 to be committed ; and he fervently prayed that the 
 Lord might arise, and show his power to the wicked. 
 Certainly never was a miracle begged with more ardent 
 vows, nor expected with greater faith, nor more 
 needed : but He, who might have worked it, decreed 
 
 otherwise. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The stars began to disappear in the heavens, when 
 from the interior of the church of Santa Croce, near the 
 greater door in front, was heard a jingling of keys, and 
 the tramp of heavy steps. Immediately after, the bolts 
 were suddenly withdrawn. A lay-brother put out his 
 head looking right and left, raising it as if snuffing the
 
 The Confession. 241 
 
 pure morning air, and rubbing his hands together, 
 exclaimed : " A beautiful morning !" Then saluting 
 again the sky with a look, he re-entered the church to 
 see if the lamps were still burning ; and as they shed 
 only a feeble light, as if ready to go out, he hastened 
 towards the vestry to refill them. 
 
 At this moment, a monk, groping along the walls, 
 introduced himself suspiciously and stealthily into the 
 church through the greater gate, and with hasty steps 
 approached a confessional under the organ, opened it, and 
 shut himself within it. Indeed this apparition might 
 have frightened the boldest man, for in passing behind 
 the columns of the navade it entirely disappeared, and 
 suddenly crossing the rays of lamps hanging from the 
 arches, might have been seen a dark and tall figure, like 
 a phantom, moving swiftly over the pavement, and across 
 the walls. 
 
 Not long after penitents began to arrive from different 
 parts, some carrying in their hands lanterns, some lighted 
 candles, whose flames the calm air hardly moved, and all 
 gathered round the confessional beneath the organ, like 
 doves around their grain. The confessions began : but 
 on that day, with no little astonishment to the devotees, 
 it seemed as if Father Marcello had put aside his accus- 
 tomed mildness. He would listen inattentively, answer 
 but little, and both in his words and manners appeared 
 very different from his usual custom. 
 
 To a certain mother, who accused herself of having 
 cursed her son, because he had threatened to strike her, 
 he said : " He was right, for he now punishes you for 
 not having punished him enough at the proper time." 
 
 To a man, who having received a sum of money in 
 11
 
 242 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 trust from a friend, had invested it for his own use, 
 and now asked for pardon and advice, he replied shortly 
 and bitterly : " Drown yourself hi the Arno." 
 
 A woman came, who confessed that she was too prone 
 to anger and bad language, and then quarrels arose 
 between herself and her husband, and caused a scandal 
 and trouble in the house : and she begged him some 
 good counsels to reform this bad temper : and the monk, 
 as if impatient, replied : "Ask your mother-in-law!" 
 
 Another woman, who after having enumerated a 
 great number of sins, kept on so long that it would seem 
 she never would end, he stopped short by asking: 
 "How old are you ?" " Sixty-five, Father, next August." 
 " So much the better for you ; for, since you are not able 
 to leave sin, sin will soon leave you." 
 
 To a man, who with tears in his eyes confessed to 
 having betrayed a relative by accusing him to the justice 
 as a rebel and conspirator against the state, he shut the 
 gate hi his face, saying : " Hell is wide enough !" 
 
 And lastly we will add what he said to a lawyer : 
 " Father," said the lawyer, " in a certain lawsuit in 
 which I knew that I was wrong, I deceived my adver- 
 sary, and succeeded in getting a sentence in my favor." 
 " My son ; forensic defence seems to me sometimes like a 
 game at cards played by two shrewd old gamblers. It 
 is of no use ! A sin more, or a sin less, more pulleys 
 would be needed to hoist up a soul like yours into heaven, 
 than to pull up the bells to the top of the belfry : you 
 may go, it is all lost time." 
 
 It is not to be said how astonished the penitents went 
 off. Is this, thought they, the holy man ? This the 
 great theologian and learned divine? Is he the man
 
 The Confession. 243 
 
 able to know our moral infirmities, pitiful in hearing 
 them, benign in treating them ? He appears more like a 
 man-at-arms than anything else ; and he would look bet- 
 ter with a helmet and sword than the cowl upon his 
 head, and the breviary in his hand. 
 
 Suddenly, two women wrapped in ample mantillas of 
 black silk, little heeding the crowd that stood kneeling 
 and crowded around the confessional, passed by; and 
 whilst one entered the confessional, the other knelt on one 
 side in the attitude of prayer. The crowd, knocked on 
 each side, did not dare to murmur, but gave way respect- 
 fully, saying to themselves : " These must be two great 
 ladies ; they pass and trample on us !" 
 
 "Father!" began the one who went to the confessional. 
 The confessor started visibly ; he carried the hem of his 
 garment to his mouth, took it between his teeth, and 
 thus repressing his emotion replied : 
 
 " Say on !" 
 
 "Father! . . ." And her words failed again. The 
 confessor, no longer impatient, after a suitable space of 
 time, repeated in a low tone : 
 
 " Say on !" 
 
 " Father, is it really true that God forgives every great 
 sin?" 
 
 "This is the greatest sin of which you might perchance 
 accuse yourself. Have you truly examined your own 
 conscience ? Are you disposed not to hide any of your 
 acts, words, deeds, omissions, thoughts, in short every- 
 thing ? Remember that St. Augustine teaches, that con- 
 fession is the open demonstration of our internal infirm- 
 ity with the hope of obtaining a cure; and although this 
 is a great deal, yet it is not enough, and a contrite and
 
 244 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 repentant heart is also required : have you brought with 
 you this repentant heart ? If so, as I hope, speak ; man 
 may first be weary with sinning, before Divine mercy 
 with forgiving." 
 
 "Amen, Father, amen! I will speak confiding in par- 
 don, not because I deserve it, but because, as you say, 
 Divine mercy is great. I have been a sinful daughter, 
 mother, wife, citizen, all in short. . ." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " As a citizen,- 1 have done no good : many I have 
 injured, and if even I did good to any one, I feel that I 
 was moved less by charity than by a vain pomp of 
 appearing generous. I hid not from my left hand the 
 alms done by my right ; I was pleased that the world 
 should know it, and people should talk of it." 
 
 " This is not a merit, but not a sin. You have bought 
 worldly fame : these alms you will not find registered in 
 the books of heaven. Recipisti mercedem luam, you 
 have received your reward. It is the charity of the 
 Pharisee; and it is generally what the present world 
 give. Men now give a penny with a sound of trumpets, 
 they notify it with ringing of bells, and large printed 
 notices on all the corners of the street . . . Vanitas 
 vanitatum .... it is all a vanity ! Hence you may con- 
 sider that you have already received your reward for the 
 charities done." 
 
 "As a daughter I paid but little attention to the 
 advices and admonitions of my father. I cannot 
 live for ever ! he would often say to me : but happy 
 he, and myself also, if he had given me less advice, 
 and, may God have mercy on his soul, a better exam- 
 ple !"
 
 The Confession. 245 
 
 " And as a wife ?" 
 
 " "Wife ! Nature gave me a fatal gift : a most ardent 
 imagination, restless desires, a wonderful disposition to 
 learn, and a retentive memory. I learned, and exer- 
 cised with passion all that which is capable of exalting 
 the mind and ennobling the heart. Educated among 
 luxuries, feted, and constantly flattered with sweet 
 words ; surrounded by pleasures, and manners loosened 
 to all sorts of dissipations ; given as wife to a man whom 
 I did not know, nor who knew me; we fancied each 
 other but little, and loved less ; he a soldier, I a worship- 
 per of the muses. One day, oppressed by insupportable 
 ennui, my husband went off; he was to remain away 
 three months, and he stayed three years. I dared to 
 presume too much to myself, and pride overcame me. 
 Then I fancied a destiny, which only my mind conceived, 
 an invincible passion nourished only by my own fancy, 
 and creating, and I may almost say lending to a man 
 worthless in himself, the qualities of perfection, which I 
 dreamed in the ideals of my poetry ... I dug with my 
 own hands the abyss wherein I fell . . . and I was lost. 
 "When I awoke from that dream, I saw my house full of 
 shame, and before me a most degraded man, and myself 
 more degraded than he. The harvest of guilt was fully 
 reaped by me ; bitter tears, ineffable grief, contempt for 
 myself, repentance, late indeed, but great, deep, and such 
 a one that God may have seen equalled, but never 
 greater." 
 
 " And was the time long that you lived in sin ?" in- 
 quired the confessor, with a harsh, slow voice. 
 
 " Oh, Father, enough . . . seek no more, if you do not 
 wish to see me die of shame at your feet."
 
 246 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 "Well! But was your lover a relative of yours? 
 What is his name ?" 
 
 If Isabella had been less moved at that moment, the 
 name of Troilo would have certainly escaped from her 
 mouth : but unable to speak, being forced to catch her 
 breath, she remembered she was not obliged to reveal 
 the name of the accomplice, but rather charity imposed 
 upon her to keep it religiously secret ; hence when the 
 confessor insisted : 
 
 " Was your lover a relative of yours ? What is his 
 name ?" 
 
 She resolutely replied : 
 
 " I accuse myself, not others. I cannot tell you more, 
 nor ought you to ask, nor I to tell." 
 
 " What ! This is important ! For the sin varies and 
 increases according to the degree of the relationship. 
 And it behooves me to explain to you, that two are the 
 forms of relationship, the first natural, the second reli- 
 gious ; that is, for example, to hold a child for baptism, con- 
 firmation, and so forth. . . Hence by the canonical laws, 
 the cousin of your husband, for example, would be a 
 relative of the second degree, and then the adultery would 
 become nicest, a sin which offends God more, and dis- 
 turbs a great deal more the laws of civil life." 
 
 " Alas ! you make me shudder with horror !" 
 
 " Now then, speak : is the man a relative of yours ?" 
 
 " Yes, a cousin of my husband." 
 
 " Cousin !" 
 
 " Nor is that all." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "I am an unhappy mother ... a son." 
 
 " A son ? What is his name ? How old is he ?"
 
 The Confession. 247 
 
 " Only a few months old." 
 
 " Not years, eh ... not years ?" 
 
 " No, months ; but wl at matters this ?" 
 
 "It matters a great deal." 
 
 " And as he is not a brother to his brother, I banished 
 him from my house, not however from my heart." 
 
 " And where did you send him ? Where is he now ?" 
 
 " There is no need of my saying this, Father. I have 
 done like the eagle ; I have made a nest for him where 
 human malice cannot reach him. As regards property, 
 my legitimate son will not be a sufferer, for I have left 
 him all the property my father left me." 
 
 Here she remained a moment in silence : then remem- 
 bering the time was fast passing, she added : 
 
 " And now, Father, keep your promise. I have re- 
 vealed everything to you ; opened my whole heart : now 
 you must console me with hope ; proffer the great word, 
 which will restore me my lost innocence, and make me 
 worthy of hoping for pardon ; open to me the gates of 
 heaven ; give me, you who have the power, absolution. . ." 
 
 And as the friar did not reply, Isabella entreated 
 eagerly : 
 
 u Why are you silent, Father ? Is my sin so great 
 that the Lord in his mercy cannot forgive ? Did not 
 Peter deny Him ? Did not Paul persecute Him ? And 
 yet did they not become chosen vessels, and apostles of 
 the people? I ask not so much; a particle of pity 
 would be enough, a drop of consolation and oblivion. 
 Release me from sin, save me from despair. I know 
 that in articulo mortis you can absolve cases reserved 
 only to the Pope. Listen, you may consider me on the 
 point of death ; believe me, I am in my last agony ; only
 
 248 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 a few hours remain to me to live; near the dreaded 
 departure, you cannot deny me the bread of hope and 
 pardon, through which the soul appears before the tri- 
 bunal of God, where trembling and trusting it awaits 
 the sentence of the minister, who represents God upon 
 this earth, to be confirmed. . ." 
 
 And still the friar answered not. 
 
 Isabella again prayed, begged, and wept, but still in 
 vain. The confessional had become as silent as the grave. 
 Then Isabella reached her hand impatiently within the 
 niche occupied by the confessor, striving to meet him in 
 the dark, fearing some sudden accident had befallen 
 him. Let the reader imagine how great was her won- 
 der, her grief, her terror, when she felt assured the friar 
 had disappeared. A cold shudder crept over her heart ; 
 and with a sigh she fell senseless upon the ground. 
 
 And it was fortunate for her to have Lady Lucrczia 
 by her side ; who, little occupied by her own thoughts, 
 paid careful attention to what was passing. She hastened 
 to her assistance, and succeeded in a short tune in res- 
 toring her. 
 
 Isabella, thinking on the one hand of the danger which 
 she had run of raising a great deal of scandal in the 
 church if the people had recognised her, on the other 
 hand seeing that the dawn was beginning to lighten the 
 sky, leant trembling on the arm of Lucrezia, and hastily 
 left the church. 
 
 Coming out into the air, she raised her eyes to heaven, 
 where the stars had disappeared one by one, not like 
 lights blown out by a gust of wind, but like sparks that 
 are consumed within a greater fire : thus human souls, 
 emanations from the Divinity, set free from the flesh
 
 The Confession. 249 
 
 which bind them, love to mingle again in the great bosom 
 of God. From the east a delicate veil of vapors tinted 
 with gold surrounded beautiful Florence, like a Madonna 
 of her immortal painters encircled by a radiated halo. 
 Nature with all created things, as a harpist pours from 
 the chords of his lyre a torrent of melody, raised to the 
 Creator a morning hymn ; there was no object nor 
 being which either with a prayer, or a vow of the heart, 
 or the happiness of a look, or with perfume, or with 
 a song towards heaven, did not salute the Father of 
 light, and an indistinct murmur was diffused forth 
 and forth in the distance like a trepidation of the old 
 mother Earth rejoicing in feeling her chilled bones 
 warmed by the beneficial heat. Hail, O firstborn of 
 the thought of God ; hail, O Sun, for there is nothing 
 dead before you, and everything breathes and revives, and 
 from the very sepulchres where lay my beloved dead you 
 bring out flowers, ornaments for the hair of young lovers, 
 and loving maidens. 
 
 Isabella raised her eyes to heaven, and her smile re- 
 turned upon her pale face ; then turning her head to 
 the spot where the sun was about rising, she thus 
 spoke : 
 
 " How beautiful is life ! But in order to enjoy it we 
 must possess the youth of years, the youth of the heart, 
 innocence, and enthusiasm ; we must be able to stand 
 the comparison with the odor of the flowers, with the 
 songs of birds, with the varied tints of the wings of the 
 butterfly, with the exultation of the first rays of the 
 morn. O life ! since I cannot enjoy thee as I could 
 once, I will not suffer thee as I am : he who has ceased 
 to reign let him throw aside his crown ; the royal man- 
 11*
 
 250 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 tie left upon the shoulders of him who has no longer a 
 kingdom, is a weight and an ignominy. But is deatli 
 approaching, perhaps welcomed like the shadow of the 
 tree to the traveller, who has walked from dawn over 
 burning sands under the scourge of the sun ? Do I 
 approach it with the desire of the wearied laborer, 
 who sees towards evening, by the uncertain gleam of 
 twilight, appear in the distance the belfry of his village ? 
 Can I say to the grave : Thou art my bridegroom ? 
 Does peace await me beyond the threshold of life ? Yes, 
 peace awaits me, for I have loved, hoped, and suffered 
 greatly. I repent of another sin, which is for having 
 desired to put a mediator between myself and God. 
 The priest has repulsed me from the temple : for me it 
 is sufficient that thou, O Creator of all, dost not repulse 
 me from heaven. I confess myself to Thee, O Lord ! 
 Thou hast no need of declarations, for with a look Thou 
 hast seen through my heart, and penetrated even to its 
 inmost recesses. I could wish that my spirit might fly 
 towards Thee upon the first ray which is about to pour 
 down from behind that mountain. . . . But if this cannot 
 be, keep Thine arms open, O Lord, for it will not be 
 long before I shall seek shelter under the mighty wings 
 of Thy pardon." 
 
 The penitents around the confessional waited a long 
 time for Father Marcello to return ; but he did not ap- 
 pear ; they went into the vestry to inquire about him : 
 they sought in his cell, in the library, and through the 
 convent, but they could not find him. 
 
 Feeling alarmed, the monks went round inquiring 
 about him ; some one said he thought he saw him in
 
 The Confession. 251 
 
 the street of Diluvio, with his hood drawn over his eyes, 
 walking hastily, as if called to some death-bed; another 
 said that he thought he saw him passing through Borgo 
 a Pinti, so trembling hi his walk, that often getting en- 
 tangled in his gowu, he was on the point of tailing. 
 Where, however, he had gone, all were ignorant, and 
 could not even imagine. The astonishment increased, 
 not without also a little fear. The Prior sent some 
 zealous fathers of the order to inquire courteously of 
 the guards of the gates : they went, they sought dili- 
 gently, but no one was able to give any information 
 about him. Meanwhile between searches, terror, and 
 grief, the day had already passed ; to which succeeded 
 a few hours of the evening, and the monks were assem- 
 bled in the refectory, some praying, some conversing ; 
 the boldest ones offered themselves to ascend upon the 
 pulpits, and announce to the people the disappearance, 
 and perhaps martyrdom, of Father Marcello ; the timid 
 ones advised waiting to inquire better into the matter, 
 and not to hasten it : there were as many opinions as 
 there were heads, as it always happens in an assemblage 
 of men who meet to decide upon a doubtful event ; 
 when suddenly there was heard a slight ring at the 
 bell. They all rose to a man, for we always see the 
 spirit of corporation to be very strong, and all went to 
 the door. Who can describe the tears, the cries of joy, 
 the hearty welcomes, the embraces, and the demonstra- 
 tions of affection that broke forth from these brothers, 
 when they saw re-appear their beloved Father Mar- 
 cello ? He replied to all, kissed and embraced all of 
 them : sweet tears of gratitude ran down his cheeks ; 
 but his face appeared pale, and so deeply impressed
 
 252 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 with some internal grief, as to excite at the same time 
 pity and fear. 
 
 He spoke briefly, and said : that he had run a great 
 danger; it was really a miracle that he was alive; he 
 owed his life to the mercy of God, and certainly also to 
 the prayers of his brothers : he thanked them from the 
 bottom of his heart, and begged them to be pleased to 
 accompany him to church to render thanks to the 
 Almighty, that with so visible aid had saved him from 
 so imminent a danger. 
 
 They went, and thanked God; afterwards Father 
 Marcello closeted with the Prior, and having discussed 
 the matter, and the consequences, thought best to gain 
 time, in order to avoid scandal, and keep himself aloof, 
 that no evil may happen to him and to the Order. He 
 was sent to Rome, in order to inform the Pope of the 
 manner in which the ministers of the Church were abused, 
 and that he might inquire into it ; and then returning 
 with the help of the Pontiff to preach against these false 
 Catholics, who committed such nefarious acts, that the 
 Lutherans themselves would be ashamed of it. 
 
 It was Titta, who, conducting the friar unharmed to 
 the convent, had kept faithfully his word.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 Pues esta noche ha da ver 
 
 El fln de mi desgracio 
 
 Medio mas prudente, y sabio 
 
 Para acabarlo de hacer. 
 Leonor (hay de mi), Leonor, 
 
 Bella como licenciosa, 
 
 Tan infeliz como hermosa, 
 
 lluina fatal de mi honor. 
 Leonor, que al dolor rendida 
 
 Y al sentimiento postrada 
 
 Dej6 la muerte burlada 
 
 En las manos de la vida, 
 
 Ila de morir 
 
 CALDERON DE LA BARCA. 
 
 This night is destined to reveal, 
 By prudent means and cunning skill, 
 My deep revenge for wounded pride 
 Fulfilled, accomplished, satisfied. 
 
 Oh, Leonor, can tears avail? 
 Most fair, but, ah ! most false and frail ; 
 Most loved, but most unhappy name, 
 My honor's ruin and my shame. 
 
 Oh, Leonor, in saddest hour, 
 O'erwhelmed by griefs intensest power, 
 Though once released when death was nigh, 
 Thy doom is written, thou must die ! 
 
 A SERVANT arrives in haste and reports to the Duchess 
 that the most noble Duke is at the head of the street 
 with his lordly retinue ; a few moments later another
 
 254 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 comes to say that the Duke has entered the court-yard, 
 that he has dismounted, that he has begun to ascend the 
 stairs. At this intelligence the Duchess rises, and sur- 
 rounded by the gentlemen of the household, her maidens 
 and her women, with Troilo at her side, composing her 
 face to appear calm, and calling, with Heaven knows how 
 terrible an effort, a smile to her lips, advances, neither 
 hastily nor slowly, but with elegant and dignified grace, 
 to welcome her husband. 
 
 They meet at the head of the stairs ; they clasp each 
 other in their arms ; they kiss each other again and again, 
 and appear deeply agitated, as indeed they are ; but 
 with what emotions ? That is visible to God alone. To 
 the bystanders it seems only a natural agitation, arising 
 from the gratification of their long cherished wish of 
 seeing each other again, from the happiness of reuniting 
 the members of a family, separated with so much sor- 
 row ; in short, from domestic joys, which men prize so 
 lightly while they possess them, but for which they 
 mourn, when lost, with inexpressible bitterness, and 
 which are welcomed with such triumphant delight by the 
 fortunate few to whom it is granted to recover them. 
 Released from the embraces of his wife, the Duke, who 
 was pre-eminent for polished and noble manners, ad- 
 vanced to Troilo, pressed his hand, kissed and embraced 
 him ; nor did he forget the other members of the house- 
 hold, but speaking kindly to them, and calling them by 
 name, asked after themselves and their families with a 
 minuteness which showed that he had remembered care- 
 fully both them and their affairs. 
 
 The Duke, the Duchess, and Troilo having retired to 
 a more private apartment, the Duke said :
 
 Death. 255 
 
 " I think it would be well, Isabella, to send immedi- 
 ately to inform your gracious brother of my arrival, so 
 that he may kindly allow our Virginio to be sent home ; 
 I long exceedingly to see him. I know well that he is 
 becoming strong and valiant, and shows himself fond of 
 all kinds of knightly exercises which are fitting for a 
 great prince ; and indeed, not to speak of my blood, 
 descending from yours, which has honored the world 
 Avith so many men renowned both for military prowess 
 and for wisdom, he could not well be otherwise. But 
 what joy can messages or letters cause, equal to that 
 which gladdens the heart of a father at the sight of the 
 dear face, and at the sound of the sweet voice of his 
 son " 
 
 " I have already anticipated your wisnes, Giordano. 
 A mother feels intuitively the desires of a father, even 
 before they can rise from his heart to his lips." 
 
 " My best beloved ! What can I say to you ? How 
 find words to express my thanks ? Oh, what a comfort 
 is this air of home, which I can call truly mine ! How 
 soothingly do these emotions descend upon the soul, 
 like the sweet breath of spring, to disperse every cloud 
 of melancholy, of vexing care, of passion. Yes, yes, the 
 air of the open plains or of the mountain heights, the 
 sea-breeze that swept my face on the day of the battle 
 of Lepanto, I will not say that these were not most 
 grateful to me, I enjoyed even the wild tumult of the 
 battle itself, and the dazzling brilliancy of the sun's rays 
 glancing from the armor of the Christians, and glorious 
 above all was the proud shout of victory, but oh ! 
 the air of my home, the air of my home, that I have 
 found nowhere 1"
 
 256 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " But not on downy plumes, nor under shade 
 Of canopy reposing, fame is won, 
 
 as Dante says, and you have added a most noble monu- 
 ment of praise to the renowned honor of your house. 
 Certainly it is an arduous undertaking to exalt what is 
 already so high ; to the eagle alone is it granted to 
 
 commence his flight from the summit of the Alps " 
 
 " A mere fable ! In my opinion, your poet would 
 have done much better to compare glory to ' smoke in 
 air or foam upon the wave.'* Peace, rest, is what men 
 crave incessantly. The more boldly we arrange our 
 affairs or enterprises, the more sharply our passions 
 sting us, so much the more rapidly does time, exerting 
 all the power of his heavy wing, hurl ruin upon human 
 beings, affairs, renown, and hearts. This power, like the 
 wind, strikes with greatest force the loftiest summits ; 
 the raging whirlwind, which rends the oak upon the 
 
 * Ormai convien che tu cosi ti spoltre, 
 
 Disse '1 Maestro, che, seggendo in piuma, 
 Infama non si vien, ne sotto coltre ; 
 Sanza la qual chi sua vita consuma, 
 Cotal vestigio in terra di se lascia, 
 Qaalfiimo in oere od in ocqua la schiuma. 
 
 LNFERXO XXIV. 
 
 " Now needs thy best of man ;" so spake my guide: 
 " For not on downy plumes, nor under shade 
 
 Of canopy reposing, fame is won ; 
 
 Without which whosoe'er consumes his days, 
 
 Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth, 
 
 As smoke in air, or foam upon the wave." 
 
 GARY'S Translation.
 
 Death. 257 
 
 mountain-top, is gentle to the violet in the vale, I am 
 old " 
 
 " Alas ! Do you, then, think that the passions which 
 are most active in corroding the human heart, are those 
 which chiefly haunt the court and camp ? Often in 
 gilded halls, beneath draperies of damask, are kindled 
 flames fiercer, not only than any other earthly ones, but 
 than those of the infernal " 
 
 " However it may be with others, see here, my face 
 is full of wrinkles, while as to you, time has hardly dared 
 to touch the corner of your eyes with the downy tip of 
 his wings." 
 
 " Is it, then, the face alone that grows old ? Do you 
 not know that man sometimes survives himself? Do 
 you not know that the heart often rests within the 
 breast like a corpse in the coflin ? Ah, Giordano ! I 
 swear to you by the Crucifix, that the sorrows suffered 
 by you, on account of your long and distant separation 
 from your home, are not nearly so severe as those which 
 I have endured, remaining here, forsaken and solitary. 
 I recognise in my pallid face the tokens of the worn out 
 spirit. Do not deny it ; do not shake your head as if 
 you did not think so. I possess a stern friend, who, 
 neither by threats, nor by supplications, nor by bribes, 
 can be restrained from speaking the truth ; who, if bro- 
 ken into a thousand fragments, would assume a thou- 
 sand tongues to repeat it to me more persistently than 
 ever ; who ought to be banished from Court, since he 
 will not bend to flattery, and nevertheless he is one 
 whom we could not possibly do without. And is called 
 as you must already have guessed Looking-glass !" 
 
 " No, indeed, I had not a suspicion of it ; I was rack-
 
 258 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 ing my brains to discover who this Anaxarchus could 
 be."* 
 
 " Messere Virginio !" announced a page, raising the 
 hangings of the door ; and immediately after entered a 
 youth, just on the verge of manhood, remarkably hand- 
 some, though rather sedate in manner, and dressed in 
 dark colors. 
 
 Have you seen a ferocious animal called the jaguar, 
 as, with a terrific spring, he bounds from his hiding- 
 place upon his expected prey ? It must have been with 
 a bound little less terrific that the Duke threw himself 
 upon his son Virginio ; for in those times the passions 
 were much more demonstrative than was necessary, and, 
 whether tender or fierce, most vehement always, and as 
 the simoom whirls about the sands of the desert, so they 
 subverted the sentiments of the soul. He clasped Vir- 
 ginio convulsively to his heart, kissed his hair and his 
 face, held him long in his arms, and almost suffocated 
 him with embraces, as the boa-constrictor tightens his 
 coils around his enemy ; he dreaded, with passionate 
 jealousy, that others should share in his joy ; he drew 
 him to one side, gazed earnestly into his eyes, and then 
 breaking out into actual weeping, he exclaimed, hi a voice 
 broken by sobs : 
 
 * Anaxarchus, a philosopher of Abdera, one of the followers of 
 Democritus, and the friend of Alexander. "When the monarch had 
 been wounded in a battle, the philosopher pointed to the place, add- 
 ing, that is human blood, and not the blood of a god. This freedom 
 offended Nicocreon, tyrant of Cyprus, who ordered him to be pounded 
 in a stone mortar, with iron hammers. While the executioners were 
 performing the sentence, he exclaimed, as long as his strength lasted ; 
 " Pound the body of Anaxarchus ; but thou canst not pound his soul."
 
 Death. 259 
 
 " O my son ! O my own child ! Hope and pride of 
 the noble house of Orsini !" 
 
 All marvelled ; and Virginio, instead of replying to 
 such extravagant demonstrations of affection, seemed 
 almost bewildered by them, and looked towards his 
 mother, as if longing for her more tender caresses ; but 
 the father endeavored to monopolize all the attention of 
 his son, endeavored to interpose his own person between 
 his eager eyes and the beloved parent they sought. Vir- 
 ginio succeeded, at last, in freeing himself from such ar- 
 dent endearments, and flew to his mother's outstretched 
 arms ; they remained long clasped in a rapturous em- 
 brace, which can be likened to nothing on earth but it- 
 self, the embrace given by a tender mother to a beloved 
 son ; nor even in Heaven can the embraces of the angels 
 before the throne of the Eternal surpass it in affection. 
 
 The Duke watched these two beings with a gaze full 
 of sadness ; his heart swelled within him, and a half- 
 stifled sigh escaped his lips ; his angry, blood-shot eyes 
 turned with a truculent expression upon Troilo, who, 
 overwhelmed with confusion, kept his fixed upon the 
 earth. It is not to be doubted that if Isabella and Troilo 
 had not been wholly preoccupied at that moment, the 
 former with the dear delight of seeing her son again, the 
 latter with the reproaches of his conscience, they would 
 have read their own condemnation in those fearful 
 glances of the Duke, for they revealed the hell in his heart. 
 
 As if he could hardly endure to see so closely united, 
 two souls destined so soon to separate, or rather, jealous 
 of an affection which he wished and intended to turn en- 
 tirely to himself, he called Virgiuio to him in a some- 
 what sharp tone, and said:
 
 260 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " It does not belong to me to examine the progress 
 you have made in letters, for of such matters I know but 
 little ; but tell me, how well can you manage a horse ? 
 How wield your arms ? Do swords frighten you ?" 
 
 " Try and see." 
 
 " With all my heart ;" and the Duke sent a servant 
 for his fencing weapons, without which, he, a most skil- 
 ful swordsman, never travelled. Then commenced a 
 furious passage of arms, in which if, as might be ex- 
 pected, the Duke was the superior in strength, Virginio 
 on his side .showed a skill equal to his father's, and for 
 his years truly wonderful. 
 
 " Troilo !" exclaimed the Duke, exultingly ; " Troilo, 
 by my faith he is one of the best swordsmen that I have 
 ever encountered. I beg of you, Troilo, to try him 
 yourself; there was a time, Troilo, when our officers 
 considered you an excellent fencer." 
 
 " There was a time, yes but now I feel that I am 
 weaker. Oh, how much better would it have been for 
 me to have won for myself either renown or an honor- 
 able death " 
 
 "What? In guarding my honor, Troilo, can you 
 possibly have drawn dishonor upon yourself?" 
 
 " No ; but I think it would have been more desirable 
 to have been at the Curzolares." 
 
 "Learn, Troilo, that in every station where a man 
 conducts himself as an honorable knight, he may win 
 honor. Come, now, to oblige me, try him." 
 
 And Troilo did try ; but his arm trembled so that he 
 could hardly hold his sword ; he kept merely upon the 
 defensive, and soon, as if wearied, lowered his weapon. 
 
 " I am no longer what I was ; my strength is half-
 
 Death. 261 
 
 spent. If God grants me life, I have determined to go 
 and reinvigorate myself by the discipline of the Knights 
 of Malta.' 
 
 " It will be a meritorious work, Troilo ; and it will be 
 well to go now, for his Holiness the Pope has promised 
 great indulgences to all who will arouse themselves to 
 fight against the infidels. You are weary of idleness, I 
 of action, and we both seek change of life. It is the way 
 of the world ; we are never contented with our present 
 lot ; we are like sick men, who, tossing from side to 
 side, seek ease from their pain. I do not know whether 
 the sepulchre can give us fame, but certainly the sepul- 
 chre alone can give repose. But why do I speak of 
 sepulchres ? And why do you look so sad ? This is a 
 day of rejoicing. It is one of those days that smoothe 
 away more than one wrinkle from the brow and from 
 the heart. Enjoy yourselves. I feel that I am the hap- 
 piest man on the face of the earth. My house must 
 resound with festive shouts. Rejoice ! I beg of you, 
 rejoice ! I command you " 
 
 "Do you think that joy can be commanded like a 
 regiment of soldiers ?" asked Isabella in a languid voice. 
 
 o o 
 
 " What prevents it from being spontaneous ?" 
 " Our souls readily don the habit of sadness, and can- 
 not lay it aside as we women do a veil or girdle. And 
 then there are modest and hidden joys that vanish in 
 the open air, and must be guarded like the vestal flame 
 in the sanctuary of the heart." 
 
 " No, thank God I love free and open joy, I love the 
 noisy mirth that takes pleasure in bonfires, in feasts and 
 banquets, and delights in flowers and sweet sounds. 
 Welcome, cheerfulness ! that gilds herself in the first
 
 262 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 rays of the morning sun, refreshes herself with the dews, 
 traverses fields and meadows, and hunts the wild beasts. 
 To the country, say I, to the country ; we cannot 
 breathe at ease hi these prisons which they call cities ; 
 an oppression weighs upon the breast and vexes the 
 heart. Let us see if there we can still be melancholy. 
 I wish to see you merry ; I will make you all cheerful, 
 or I am not Paolo Giordano Orsini, Duke of Bracciano. 
 Listen, Isabella ; I have determined to pay a visit to his 
 Highness your brother ; Virginio shall go with me ; and 
 having, as is proper, rendered my due respects to him, I 
 shall immediately take leave, and we can go, without 
 delaying any longer in town, to our beautiful Cerreto. 
 There are pleasant shades, wild beasts, and leafy groves ; 
 there flow deep cool streams ; there the eye can rest 
 with delight upon the greater part of this earthly para- 
 dise which we salute by the name of Tuscany. No one 
 can hope to taste the pleasures of domestic life better 
 than in the quiet of the fields or under the shade of the 
 forests ; there we shall feel ourselves happy. Are you 
 not pleased, Isabella? Certainly you have too much 
 enthusiasm in your soul to deny this. The husband of 
 a poetess, I open my heart to the spirit of poetry." 
 
 " I like whatever pleases you, my dear Lord ; but 
 think how intensely warm it is, and how much plea- 
 santer it would be to travel by night." 
 
 " Yes, truly, we are stifled here. Do you not feel as 
 if it were raining fire ? I do not know the sun in Flo- 
 rence. During the whiter he creeps from cloud to cloud 
 like a criminal, who by mixing in the crowd seeks to 
 csc:i])o, the sheriff; then in the summer he stands 
 riveted in the heavens, and seems to wish us the fate he
 
 Death. 263 
 
 brought upon his son Phaeton. But does a soldier care 
 for the sun ? What do you think, Troilo ?" 
 
 " By your leave I should agree with the Duchess." 
 
 " Well, well, if the sun hurts you, you can go in the 
 carriage with her ; we shall go on horseback." 
 
 " I, too, will go on horseback," cried Troilo in an 
 excited tone, and the Duke replied, smiling 
 
 " I did not intend to offend you, Troilo ; I thought 
 that you might wish to continue the good and faithful 
 guardianship that you have hitherto " 
 
 And without finishing his sentence, he took Virginio 
 by the hand, and promising that he would return shortly, 
 accompanied by an honorable retinue of gentlemen, he 
 departed to pay a visit of courtesy to his brother-in-law. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, Troilo and Isabella, as may 
 readily be imagined, strained every faculty of their minds 
 to weigh the words uttered by the Duke, and to submit 
 to a rigorous examination his gestures, looks, and every 
 little trifle which would have escaped eyes less vigilant 
 than theirs. They were so completely absorbed in their 
 anxious doubts, that if an earthquake had shaken the 
 city, they would not have perceived it, which, as we 
 read in history, actually happened to the Romans and 
 Carthaginians during the battle of Lake Trasymene. 
 AVhat was also very remarkable, was, that their reflec- 
 tions terminated at the same moment, and in entirely 
 opposite conclusions, for while Troilo laid aside all fear, 
 Isabella bade adieu to every gleam of hope. 
 
 Without requiring the language of the lips, they had, 
 by means of the many other modes of expression of 
 which the human face is capable, made known to each 
 other the subject of their thoughts, and the decision
 
 264 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 which they had each formed. When Troilo perceived 
 that they did not agree, an insane desire took possession 
 of him, to learn more exactly Isabella's opinion. But to 
 dismiss the numerous guests did not seem polite, neither 
 was it prudent, in their presence, to hold any secret 
 conversation, and it was dangerous to allow Troilo to 
 continue his nods and signs, unfortunately too evident 
 to every one, that he wished, at all hazards, to speak to 
 her ; so, as the best thing that she could do, she went 
 to a table, and taking up Petrarch's Lyric Poems, found 
 a sonnet, read it attentively, and marking lightly with 
 her nail that part of the page to which she wished to 
 draw Troilo's attention, she left it open, making a sign 
 to him to read it; then turning away, she joined with 
 her usual brilliancy in the conversation of those stand- 
 ing near her. Troilo, as soon as he thought that he 
 could do so without attracting observation, approached 
 the table, and read at the place marked : 
 
 But though it be our hapless lot to lie 
 
 In durance vile, of former peace bereft, 
 Yea, though the fates decree that we should die, 
 
 One consolation still to us is left, 
 He who to us our liberty denies, 
 
 Lies willing captive to another's powers ; 
 Pierced by the archer's fatal shafts he lies, 
 
 And wears a closer, heavier chain than ours.* 
 
 * Ma del misero stato ove noi semo 
 Condotte dalla vita altra serena, 
 Un sol conforto, e della morte, avemo : 
 Che vendetta 6 di lui ch' a cio ne mena ; 
 Lo qual in forza altrui, presso all' estremo, 
 Rinian legato con maggior catena.
 
 Death. 265 
 
 Troilo shrugged his shoulders, saying to himself: 
 " She really enjoys thinking herself past all hope ; but 
 how can she help seeing clearly that the Duke is the 
 happiest man in the world ? She wishes, and indeed it 
 would be for her advantage, that I should go away. 
 But we know each other of old ; and I have never felt 
 so much disposed as now to stay and see the end of it. 
 That I must give place, is all right and proper ; if they 
 wish me to give with one hand, I will give with two ; 
 but we must capitulate on honorable conditions ; must 
 come to advantageous terms ; I intend to depart with 
 military honors, taking my arms and baggage, not to bo 
 driven away like an old servant." 
 
 It was not long before the Duke reappeared, honor- 
 ably accompanied, but without Virginio. When Isa- 
 bella saw him enter alone the last ray of hope was extin- 
 guished in her heart, the entire renunciation of which is 
 most difficult for the human heart. Then she seemed 
 indeed to road her sentence of death. Death is terrible 
 to all, but especially so to those who, from physical 
 weakness, shrink from suffering it. A cold shudder ran 
 through her bones, her face became deathly pale, her 
 livid h'ps quivered convulsively. No one can deny that 
 her own sense must have taught her that it would be 
 impossible to use violence against a mother in presence 
 of her son. She went towards the Duke, and with an 
 indescribable expression asked him : 
 
 " Where is our Virginio ?" 
 
 " Your brother insisted upon keeping him ; he says 
 that his attention is too easily diverted, and that it is a 
 most difficult thing to bring him back again to his daily 
 routine. In truth, it seems hard that I should not enjoy 
 
 12
 
 266 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 my son's society, after so many years of separation, but 
 you know it is for our interest to conciliate his Highness. 
 However, he has promised to send him for one day to 
 our country-seat, accompanied by his tutor " 
 
 " Country-seat ? which country-seat ?" 
 
 " Cerreto." 
 
 " When ?" 
 
 " Very soon." 
 
 " He will certainly send him to the country, but not 
 to Cerreto. To-morrow, perhaps " 
 
 " He did not say to-morrow ?" 
 
 " No ! but my heart tells me Alas ! Why did I not 
 give him a farewell kiss ?" 
 
 "Do you fear that you will not have time to kiss 
 him ? 
 
 " Do you believe that I shall have time to kiss him ? " 
 demanded Isabella, with a look that seemed to penetrate 
 into the inmost recesses of his heart. The Duke, glanc- 
 ing away from her, tried to escape her questionings and 
 pleadings. 
 
 " Of course I believe it ; what is there to prevent ? 
 If he should forget it, we can send for him. Come, 
 then, to horse ; what need is there of further delay ? 
 To Cerreto to peace to rest to repose after our long 
 labors to sweet sleep !" 
 
 " Stultum est somno delectari, mortem horrere : cum 
 somnus assiduus sit mortis mutatio"* 
 
 " What are you murmuring, Isabella ?" 
 
 " I just happened to think of a sentence in Seneca, 
 about sleep the brother of death." 
 
 * It is foolish to enjoy sleep and to be terrified at death, for eternal 
 sleep would be death.
 
 Death. 267 
 
 " How can such a quotation apply to us ?" 
 
 " It does not." And two tears two only came to 
 her eyes, but instead of rolling down her cheeks in the 
 usual manner, they sprang from her lids like the last 
 arrow shot from the bow of Grief.* 
 
 " To horse I" 
 
 The servants, hurried by the impetuosity of Titta, 
 whom they perceived that they must obey as the Duke, 
 or even more than the Duke, prepared with wonderful 
 celerity horses, carriages, and a waggon, with such arti- 
 cles as could not be readily obtained in the country. 
 The major-domo, Don Inigo, had asked with his usual 
 brevity, " Whether it would be necessary to carry much 
 plate and linen ?" but Titta replied, 
 
 " Why, no, major-domo, for I do not think that we 
 shall stay very long at Cerreto." 
 
 They set out. The sun darted down his fiery rays, 
 the winds were silent, there was not a breath of air, and 
 the stifling glare of the tyrant of the skies oppressed 
 all nature. The leaves of the trees hung motionless, for 
 
 * In the Memoirs of the Mare'schal de Bassompierre, occurs the fol- 
 lowing remarkable passage : " Maria dei Medici, when her authority 
 as regent was on the decline, intended to refuse the request of some 
 of her barons to recall several exiles, which they were urging upon 
 her with great persistency ; but she did not dare to pronounce her 
 refusal until she knew her actual condition. So, on some pretence 
 she called Bassompierre aside, and asked him what means of resist- 
 ance remained to her. Bassompierre replied, ' None, especially since 
 some of her friends, such as the Marquis d'Ancre, had abandoned 
 her.' Lors la reine ne peut se tenir de jeter quatre ou cinq larmes, se 
 tournaut vers la fenetre afin qu'on ne la vit pas pleurer, et, ce que je 
 riavois jamais vu, ettes ne couKrent point comme quand on a accoulume 
 de pleurer, mais se DARDERENT hors des yeux sanscouler sur lesjoues."
 
 268 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 not a breath, not a sigh of wind dared to stir them ; the 
 waters ceased their accustomed murmur; in such still 
 silence, in such intense solitude, the locusts alone, as if 
 drunk with the heat, labored in their monotonous song, 
 which ends with their lives ; some lizards, gliding across 
 the road with the speed of an arrow, sought shelter from 
 the heat from bush to bush. To increase the distress of 
 the journey, the dust, disturbed by the trampling of the 
 horses' feet, rose in clouds and settled thickly upon the 
 hair and clothes of the riders. The horses, losing their 
 usual spirit, walked panting, with drooping ears, and 
 streaming with perspiration. The Duke, his face in a 
 flame, and tormented also by insupportable fury, dis- 
 guised his uneasiness, and said in a voice which he endea- 
 vored to render cheerful : 
 
 "This sun-bath revives one's blood. Men born on 
 Italian ground must feel their hearts refreshed by the 
 rays of the * day-star ;' heat is the father of life, nay, life 
 itself, for we are born warm and we die cold." 
 
 Meantime, with infinite trouble they had reached the 
 banks of the Arno. A few days before a sudden shower 
 of rain had fallen, which, although it had increased the 
 sultriness, for it seemed as if it had rained fire, had 
 nevertheless raised the level of the Arno, whose swollen 
 waters rolled swiftly by. The ferryman being sum- 
 moned, hastened at the sight of such a noble and unex- 
 pected company, and proposed to take them in two 
 trips, for the river being so high, and the boat so hea- 
 vily laden, he feared that some disaster might happen. 
 But all were impatient to cross the stream, and the Duke 
 particularly; so the knights dismounted from their 
 steeds, the ladies descended from the carriage, and they
 
 Death. 269 
 
 all entered the boat, together with the animals and 
 vehicles, without paying the slightest attention to the 
 remonstrances of the boatman, who did not cease to 
 warn them of the danger. The Duke and Isabella 
 advanced to the prow of the boat, which would first 
 touch the shore, without exchanging a word. He gazed 
 intently at the waters as they ran swiftly by, urged on, 
 as it were, by some mysterious agency, and murmuring 
 hoarsely as if complaining of the fleeting destiny granted 
 to them by the fates. Suddenly, as if speaking to him- 
 self he said : 
 
 " These waves, which pass so rapidly before my eyes, 
 will certainly grow quiet in the sea ; but where go the 
 human souls which pass away no less swiftly ?" 
 
 ""Wherever it pleases the mercy of God," replied 
 Isabella. 
 
 " Mercy ! Say rather to whatever place we may de- 
 serve by the works and merits which we perform during 
 this passage to the tomb which we call life." 
 
 " My dear Giordano, let no human creature presume 
 to save himself by his own merits. What should we be, 
 if God did not assist us ?" 
 
 " You confide much in the mercy of God ?" 
 
 "Entirely." 
 
 " But if the priests should declare you unpardonable ?" 
 
 "I should not despair, unless I should myself hear 
 that severe sentence from the immortal lips of the Fa- 
 ther of Mercies." 
 
 " But God is a judge and avenger : He visits the 
 generations, and ' visits the sins of the fathers upon the 
 children unto the third and fourth ' " 
 
 " We know another law, which is pardon, charity, and
 
 2jo Isabella Orsini. 
 
 love ; the blessed Santa Teresa calls the devil unhappy, 
 because he can neither pardon nor love " 
 
 " God help us ! We shall upset !" 
 
 These cries suddenly interrupted the conversation. 
 In a moment, all was fear and confusion. The rope 
 attached to the rudder broke, and the force of the cur- 
 rent, pushing the boat on one side, nearly submerged it, 
 all control over it being thus lost ; the peril was im- 
 minent, increased as it was by the uneasy motions 
 of the men and animals ; the edge of the boat already 
 touched the water ; it was on the point of filling hope- 
 lessly. 
 
 The Duke appeared not only free from all fear in that 
 tumult, but even enjoyed it, and with a great shout 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Let us all go to the bottom together !" 
 
 But the ferryman, with a strong push of his pole, was 
 just in time to support the side towards which the boat 
 careened, and to save it from disappearing beneath 
 the surface. Rescued thus from the immediate danger, 
 the others assisted the ferryman, and by means of their 
 united strength, they succeeded, although with diffi- 
 culty, in keeping the boat steady; a servant, with a 
 rope in his hand, then sprang into the water, and cross- 
 ing the stream, reached the opposite shore, where, with 
 the aid of some peasants who were waiting to cross, he 
 drew the rope, one end of which was fastened to the 
 boat, and succeeded in bringing it to a place of safety. 
 They landed, but when the ferryman, cap in hand, tried 
 to recall himself to their memories, which seemed cou- 
 sins-german to forgetfuluess, Isabella, looking back at 
 him, said :
 
 Death. 271 
 
 "Why did you save us? Many would have died 
 innocent, who will now be lost." 
 
 And the Duke : 
 
 " Why did you save us ? Who told you to ? Who 
 asked you to ? We should all have sunk to the bottom- 
 less pit without noticing it." 
 
 Troilo and the others looked askance at him as they 
 passed. The honest man stood confounded. Last of 
 all cauie Don Inigo, so very dark, with his pallid face 
 and fierce glance. If to the eyes of the ferryman the 
 others had appeared demons, this man seemed Satan 
 himself; in his heart he gave up all hope of the expected 
 buona, mono ; nevertheless, according to, his custom, he 
 moved forward to ask it, but his voice died away on his 
 lips. Don Inigo fixed upon him two such eyes that the 
 frightened boatman retreated two or three steps, and as 
 Don Inigo continued to advance, without changing a 
 muscle of his face, he still retreated. Don Inigo thrust 
 his hand into his doublet, and the other, fearing that he 
 was about to draw his dagger or poniard, gave himself 
 np for lost : but instead, he drew forth two bright pis- 
 toles and held them out to him. The ferryman hardly 
 dared to trust himself, but the love of money overcame 
 his fear : he approached tremblingly, and stretched forth 
 his open hand. Don Inigo dropped the pistoles into it 
 without speaking ; the other received them holding his 
 breath; then, each turning away from the other, the 
 ferryman set off at a full run, and did not consider him- 
 self safe until he was actually in his boat. When there 
 he opened his hand, suspecting that the money had 
 turned to lead, which generally happens, according to 
 popular superstition, with money corned in the infernal
 
 272 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 mint ; but they still seemed of gold, as they had done at 
 first : at any rate, he put them carefully away in his 
 purse, exclaiming: 
 
 " I will have them blessed, for if it was not the devil 
 and all his imps that I have just ferried over, I am not 
 the ferryman of Petroio!" 
 
 At last they have reached Cerreto-Guidi ; at last they 
 have reached the foot of the steep flight of steps by 
 which they wearily mount to the country-seat at the top. 
 
 Country-seat ! Yes, certainly, for thus that block of 
 buildings was then called, and always will be called, 
 which was once the property of Isabella Orsini at 
 Cerreto-Guidi. There nature smiles most brightly, and 
 shows herself most joyful, and notwithstanding, man, 
 placing his fatal hand upon it, has succeeded in ren- 
 dering it the abode of terror : a hill, which, if left 
 untouched, would have been a most beautiful and 
 charming sight, has been bound with brick and stone, 
 and converted into a fortress. Four very steep stair- 
 cases, two on each side, lead to the top ; the two first 
 form an angle at the foot of the hill, and then part, the 
 one to the right, the other to the left ; the two second 
 begin where these end, and reunite in an angle before 
 the lawn in front of the palace. The walls come down 
 perpendicularly, built of brick of so bright a tint that 
 even now they appear as if stained with blood ; the 
 bosses, the stairs, and the copings of the parapets are of 
 Gonfalina stone ; the two first staircases have forty-two 
 steps, each of which is more than a foot broad; the 
 second, forty-three ; the cliff beneath is excavated, with 
 tortuous, subterranean passages winding through it. 
 In the centre of the wall rests an immense escutcheon,
 
 Death. 273 
 
 also of stone ; but the Medicean balls,* either the effect 
 of time or "the work of men's hands," have fallen, 
 as the family of the Medici has fallen, as their power 
 has fallen, as all the great ones of the earth will fall, 
 into the sepulchre. To some sooner, to some later, 
 but to all fatally, will the Autumn come, for we 
 are leaves attached to the tree of time, and time itself 
 is a perishing leaf of eternity. But when men have 
 fallen and their age has passed away, fame remains, 
 which, although it may grow old and infirm, never dies ; 
 and even if sometimes late, always reaches posterity, to 
 recount the vices and virtues of those who have passed 
 from earth. Despotic potentates have lived, who have 
 torn out its tongue, and thought thus to silence it, but 
 the tongue of fame springs again like the head of the 
 Hydra, and God does not permit a Hercules to rise 
 against it, for He has sent it upon earth as a precursor 
 of His own delayed but inevitable justice. 
 
 The palace contains a vast hall on the ground-floor ; 
 at the further end of it there is an arch, at the right of 
 which a broad stone staircase leads to the first story. 
 
 Just on the right hand of the entrance is a suite of 
 apartments. Enter, cross it, and you will find a corner 
 room ; one side looks to the south, that opposite to the 
 door to the west. There is now but one window to the 
 room; at the time of our history there were two; the 
 second opened to the west. There are two doors ; one 
 large and in full view, the other small and secret, and 
 formerly covered by tapestry of green damask. The 
 room is ten feet by seven. In the wall is a large press, 
 
 * The arms of the Medici family were six balls. 
 
 12*
 
 274 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 which is not readily perceived by the careless observer : 
 looking up to the entablature, we find that there are 
 sixteen small joists resting upon one principal beam. 
 But it is not to count beams and joists that I turn your 
 attention to the ceiling : indeed no ; look carefully, arid 
 there, under the principal beam, by the third cross-beam 
 from the western side, you will observe a small round 
 hole. 
 
 Remember this room and this hole. Two hundred 
 and seventy-eight years have now passed since that hole 
 appeared there. 
 
 Cerreto (an oak grove) received its name from the 
 abundance of green oaks ( Cerri) that shaded the hill 
 and the surrounding country for a long distance, as 
 Frassineto (an ash grove) from the ash trees (Frassini}, 
 and Suvereto (a wood of cork trees) from the corks 
 (Sugheri), and Rovereto (a male oak grove) from the 
 male oaks (Roveri}. Where are the oak trees now? 
 The eye of the passer-by seeks in vain for a tree beneath 
 whose shade to shelter his burning head from the sun's 
 scorching glare ; and not at Cerreto alone, but through- 
 out all Tuscany, and even upon the lofty peaks of the 
 Apennine range, trees are to the present day but sel- 
 dom seen. Oh! sad is the necessity which compels us 
 to deprive the earth of so noble an ornament ! The 
 forests have disappeared, and with them the Dryads, the 
 Hamadryads, the Fauns, the Oreads, and the other 
 lovely families with which the fancy of the poets peopled 
 them ; the forests have disappeared, and with them the 
 Knights Errant, the tournaments, the chivalrous enter- 
 prises, the fairies, the dwarfs, and the Queens of Beauty, 
 with whom the imaginations of the romancers gladdened
 
 Death. 275 
 
 their sylvan haunts. The nymphs of the woods fol- 
 lowed mourning to see the beloved trees, and recom- 
 mended them to the care of the ocean goddesses, as if 
 they had been best beloved children ; and the ocean 
 goddesses cared for them, fashioned them into ships, 
 adorned them with sails as purely white as the wings of 
 the swan, gave them the swiftness of the albatross, and 
 the shining beauty of the halcyon ; then with their hands 
 and shining shoulders they pushed the stern, and the 
 favoring winds, vieing with the nymphs, swelled the sails, 
 and took pleasure in spreading to the azure sky the 
 banner of our land. 
 
 The ship, traversing untried seas, carried arts, cus- 
 toms, and knowledge, to civilize unknown and savage 
 nations, and the banner of our land was hailed even on 
 the remotest shores as a token of safety. Alas ! This 
 is a desire which, however earnest, can never more be 
 fulfilled. The woods of our country are shorn of their 
 leaves, as Grecian maidens formerly sacrificed their 
 tresses at the tombs of their dear ones. Our trees have 
 been converted into ships, but not for us ; the w r iuds 
 have unfolded the banner, but it was not ours ; they 
 have joined in battle, but it was not for the fates of our 
 country ; they have sailed laden with merchandise, but 
 not gathered from our fields, nor manufactured by our 
 hands ; they have indeed been guided by Italian men 
 over unknown seas, and through terrible storms and 
 fearful perils, but others have received the fruits of these 
 enterprises, and our country has won merely barren re- 
 nown. Barbarous nations have bought our forests, 
 while the iron dared not touch their oaks, beneath which 
 the Druids celebrated their mysterious rites. Oh!
 
 276 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 miserable nation, who have sold everything, and had it 
 been possible would have sold even your sun and sky, 
 why, if you yourselves had no thrill of daring or of 
 glory, why did you disinherit your posterity ? Why, 
 not contented with your own baseness, did you prepare 
 for your sons an inheritance of shame and tears ? What 
 judgment awaits you beyond the grave, since your 
 children will remember their fathers only by the ill 
 which they have received from them ? 
 
 But Cerreto was at that time shaded with an abun- 
 dance of oaks, elms, holm-oaks, and trees of all kinds ; 
 while pheasants, heath-cocks, and infinite varieties of 
 birds flew from bough to bough, and roebucks, deer, 
 stags, hares, and wild-boars bounded through the under- 
 brush ; so that the place was remarkably well adapted 
 for the chase, the supreme delight in the lives of 
 Princes. 
 
 When IsabeUa, leaning on her husband's arm, began 
 to ascend the stairs, she stumbled on the first step, so as 
 to cause herself severe pain ; smiling sadly, she turned 
 to the Duke and said : 
 
 " This is a bad omen : a Roman would have turned 
 back."* 
 
 The Duke, not being able to think of a good answer, 
 kept silence, trying in his turn to laugh. 
 
 As soon as they reached the palace, every one repaired 
 to his own apartments ; the Duke went to those which 
 contained the room already so minutely described, to 
 perform his toilet. 
 
 * As Lamoignon Malesherbes, the aged defender of Louis XVI., was 
 being dragged to the scaffold, he struck his foot against a step in the 
 prison, and remarked: "A Roman would have turned back."
 
 Death. 277 
 
 When they had bathed in perfumed water, changed 
 their clothes, and dressed their hair, they all met again 
 on the piazza in front of the palace. 
 
 The sun, shorn of his rays, resembled a blood-shot 
 eye, and the whole sky near him seemed like a lake of 
 blood. An immense extent of country lay stretched out 
 before the eyes of our personages, for from that height 
 could be seen the greater part of the territories of Flo- 
 rence, Pistoia, Volterra, Pisa, Colle, Samminiato, and 
 even Leghorn. Groups of houses were scattered about 
 on the hills, like flocks of goats in their pastures ; from 
 the little cottages rose straight columns of smoke, and 
 the sound of melancholy songs was heard from the 
 plains, to which other voices in the distance replied in 
 strains equally mournful. From a black cloud darted, 
 from time to time, a tongue of flame like the sword of 
 the avenging Archangel hidden behind it. The sun 
 meantime is gradually sinking now it is merely a 
 streak of light now it is gone ! Isabella, moved by an 
 irresistible impulse, stretched forth her arms with the 
 despairing sorrow with which we see our dearest trea- 
 sures hidden from our sight beneath the earth, and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Farewell, O sun, farewell!" and covered her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 "Farewell until to-morrow," said the Duke, "and 
 may you rise with a brighter face than that with which 
 you leave us. Beautiful plains, pleasant woods, and de- 
 lightful ease, at last I return to enjoy you, nor will I 
 again leave you hastily. I am weary of pursuing glory, 
 which is never overtaken ; or if overtaken, when man 
 thinks to clasp a supreme good, his arms fall empty on
 
 278 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 his bosom. I wish to find my pleasure in domestic joys, 
 the only true ones in the world. I reproach myself, and 
 I ask your pardon, Isabella, and bind myself by an oath 
 never to leave you again. I thank you, that on return- 
 ing home, I have not been received as a stranger ; I 
 owe it to the excellent goodness of your disposition, 
 that coming back, after so many years of absence, I can 
 believe that I departed only yesterday. My heart is 
 sick ; it is for you to cure it entirely of the fever of am- 
 bition, which has wrung it so sorely." 
 
 Isabella looked at him, and smiled mournfully with- 
 out speaking ; but Troilo, who thought him sincere, re- 
 plied consolingly : 
 
 " Now how can you say that you have spent your 
 days in vain ? In a hundred battles you have gathered 
 laurels enough to crown two Caesars ; not to mention 
 others, at Lepanto alone you have, by your bravery 
 and prowess, acquired a name that history will record 
 with pride in her eternal pages. Ah ! be good enough 
 to satisfy my long desire ; narrate to me the events of 
 this ' battle of the giants.' " 
 
 " At another tune, Troilo, at another time ; but, I 
 repeat it, all is vanity. Look and see what good has aris- 
 en from so many deaths, from so much misery, from so 
 many wounds ! The Christians, envious of each other, 
 did not follow up their victory ; the Turks rose again, 
 more troublesome than ever ; and Don John, unaccept- 
 able conqueror, received as the recompense of his won- 
 derful valor, nothing but oblivion, and happy he if no- 
 thing worse happen to him ! That great soldier heart, 
 which expands in the dangers of the conflict, will quick- 
 ly cease to beat if condemned to fret itself away at
 
 Death. 279 
 
 Court,* for glory was his breath, danger his blood, war 
 his very life. The fate of this illustrious but unfortu- 
 nate man, teaches me to be wise, and furl the sails worn 
 by the long voyage. True, it is late, but ' better late 
 than never;' the sun of my life is declining God 
 grant that its setting at least may be peaceful !" 
 
 The servants had prepared two tables in the lower 
 hah 1 , and they were overloaded with the gifts of Ceres 
 and Bacchus ; many chandeliers shone with brilliant 
 light, which was reflected in infinite rays from the 
 sparkling silver plate, white porcelain vases, and large 
 mirrors. All the doors which looked upon the piazza 
 had been opened, and also the opposite ones opening 
 into the gardens ; and yet the air was so still that not 
 even a light flickered, and the folds of the window cur- 
 tains and awnings were as immovable as if made of mar- 
 ble or bronze. Through so many openings there did 
 not penetrate a single refreshing breath of air. 
 
 They sat at the banquet. The Duke strove his best 
 to make the guests give themselves up to joy and mer- 
 riment ; he had need of excitement ; he endeavored to 
 stupefy himself; he meant to drown his internal passion 
 in the madness of false hilarity : in short, he sought 
 mainly two things, courage to persist, and power to dis- 
 simulate. He succeeded finally ; for the guests, having 
 no motive to doubt the sincerity of the Duke's gaiety, 
 abandoned themselves to a free and open demonstration 
 
 * It was not long before they received notice of the death of Don 
 John of Austria, caused by fever and the deep vexation of excessive 
 care.
 
 280 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 of enjoyment, and thus was tempered the artificial and 
 icy happiness which he pretended. Troilo, who, as all 
 ignorant men are wont, presumed a great deal on him- 
 self, thought there was no danger ; yet he was not 
 entirely at his ease, and, at any rate, he thought best to 
 drown all sadness in wine. The conversation began to 
 be more excited and lively ; witty sayings flew from 
 mouth to mouth. The banquet was at its climax ; the 
 valets and pages hastened around, carrying wines of all 
 kinds and warm viands ; the noise which arises from 
 gay voices speaking all together, a sure indication of a 
 merry feast, filled the whole room, and from time to 
 time was broken by loud laughter. 
 
 But Isabella participated in this hilarity as much as 
 was necessary not to show the perturbation which agi- 
 tated her; and it did not escape her notice that the Duke, 
 whilst he urged the others and herself to drink often, 
 never did himself, or, hardly touching the glass to his 
 lips, set it down again. Her eyes often sought those of 
 the Duke, but he studiously avoided hers, or if by chance 
 they met he turned them away quickly. Not that she 
 was sorry at this, prepared as she was for everything, 
 but, through an innate vanity in our nature, she wished to 
 show him that she might be murdered, but not deceived. 
 
 And since there never are motives wanting among 
 men either to do an injury or to drink, so it is useless to 
 relate in how many ways, and for how many reasons, they 
 all drank. 
 
 Troilo, partly to correspond to the general exultation, 
 partly to acquire more and more the good will of his 
 cousin, rose suddenly, and holding in his hand a full 
 goblet, toasted the Duke thus :
 
 Death. 281 
 
 "The health of the valorous knight of Christ, the 
 victorious warrior of Lepanto." 
 
 There is nothing in the world so insupportable as praise 
 in the mouth of an enemy ; no insult can offend as much 
 as this eulogium ; and it seemed excessively insulting to 
 the Duke, for he knew too well that it was derived from 
 stupidity, but mingled with malice ; and it is also no lit- 
 tle offence to human vanity to allow the fool to suppose 
 that he has been able to deceive us. Yet he dissimu- 
 lated ; for when he undertook a task, although weak by 
 nature, he was capable by art of dissimulating as well 
 as the most dexterous. 
 
 At the toast of Troilo all replied applauding, and, 
 although the power of the wine had a great deal to do 
 with these vociferous approvals, yet they poured so sin- 
 cerely from their hearts, that the warrior felt proud of 
 them, and they tempered the bitterness caused by the 
 thought of the source from whence the toast came, and 
 the reason of it. 
 
 The Duke rose also, and taking a glass, replied in an 
 attitude of acknowledgment : 
 
 "It is too much for me! But human tongue can 
 never extol enough the illustrious souls of those who 
 perished fighting on that memorable day." 
 
 " My Lord Duke, pray do not deny to us the honor 
 and pleasure of hearing you relate the events of that 
 battle : we beg you, by the love you bear to your lady." 
 
 " No ; what is the use ? You have all read it in the 
 histories of the times." 
 
 And all the guests insisted, speaking at once : 
 
 " Yes, but in generalities ; without details of facts 
 and incidents. And then, to read a relation of a battle
 
 282 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 is a very different thing from hearing it from one who 
 fought in it, shed his blood, and conquered. Please nar- 
 rate it to us." 
 
 And Titta, who had accompanied the Duke, and had 
 fought at his side and saved his life, desired that his 
 prowess might be shown also as well as his master's, so 
 that he insisted more than the others that the Duke, who 
 was a good speaker, should relate the events and dan- 
 gers of that famous battle. Indeed the refusal of the 
 Duke, to tell the truth, was not sincere ; not that he was 
 a miles gloriosus, but every soldier loves to record the 
 battles he fought, the wounds received, and to show 
 himself a generous bestower of praise on the enemy, 
 whether conquerors or conquered ; if conquerors, to 
 excuse the defeat ; if conquered, to render his triumph 
 more glorious. 
 
 Titta then, in a certain manner which was neither a 
 request nor a command, but participated of both, added : 
 
 " May it please your Excellency, although modesty 
 may deter you from narrating the battle, you must not 
 deprive me of my share of praises ; for I also fought 
 by your side, and as fortune, rather than my own bravery, 
 gave me the chance of saving the life of a valorous war- 
 rior, I cannot renounce the reward accruing from this 
 act, although an accidental one." 
 
 " You are right, and I could not honestly be silent, 
 when silence might be imputed to me as ingratitude. 
 Please then to listen ; I will speak briefly and plainly, as 
 becomes a soldier. And you, Isabella, remember all that 
 I am about to say, and make it a noble theme for your 
 muse . . . since now nothing is left to the warrior for 
 reward but the smile of beauty, and the honor of a poem."
 
 Death. 283 
 
 " Is not that enough ?" asked Isabella. 
 
 " It is even too much. All Christendom was in arms : 
 knights of high lineage, plebeians, adventurers assembled 
 from all sides to fight the enemies of Christ, in order to 
 obtain remission for their sins, and the great indulgences 
 promised by Pope Pius V. But although the desire of 
 the warriors was great to meet the enemy in mortal com- 
 bat, yet the secret intentions of the allied Princes were 
 not in accordance with them. The Venetians craved the 
 battle, the Pope more than they ; but Philip II. of Spain 
 was unwilling to risk an enterprise on which depended 
 all the forces of his kingdom, and where victory would 
 have been rather to the advantage of his allies than to 
 himself; nor in his crafty and cunning mind did he desire 
 the Italians to acquire fame ; fearing lest they might be 
 induced, as it is customary with human natures, to feel 
 the want of acquiring a greater one.* The great Com- 
 endador of Castille Requesens had been sent to Don 
 John of Austria as a check, and he never ceased whisper- 
 ing in his ears, to curb his fiery spirit ; that his supreme 
 glory and religion ought to be the welfare and advance- 
 ment of the king his brother ; so that the great soul of 
 this magnanimous man sadly wavered with painful un- 
 certainty. But every day there arrived new forces 
 ready to fight, seeking for no other reward or glory 
 than that of shedding their own blood for the Faith. 
 Don John would sigh from the depth of his heart, and 
 with his eyes fixed upon the ground tremble with rage, 
 or grow pale and disheartened. The advices of Gabrio 
 
 * i. e. The liberation of Lombardy and the kingdom of Naples from 
 the Spanish yoke.
 
 284 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Serbelloni, general of artillery, of Ascanio della Cornia, 
 grand-master of the field, and of Sforza, Count of San- 
 tafiore, general of the Italians for king Philip, were of 
 no little help to add spurs to his valorous soul. Yet, it 
 seemed that the battle would not take place, for fortune 
 hindered the enterprise with all her might ; and indeed 
 a vague report was spread, that, on account of the late- 
 ness of the season, and the stormy weather, this year 
 they would only attempt to gain possession of Castel- 
 nuovo, or Nelona, or Durazzo, or Santa Maura. Add to 
 this, that Don John, being greatly exasperated against the 
 Venetians, was on the point of losing the occasion 
 through which his name will descend immortal even to 
 remote posterity. The Venetian galleys were somewhat 
 ill supplied with soldiers, and accordingly Don John 
 thought it best to replenish them with his Italian and 
 Spanish troops ; it was a remedy worse than the disease, 
 since a day did not pass without tumults, quarrels, and 
 bloody fights arising. Captain Muzio da Cortona, sta- 
 tioned on the galley of Andrea Calergi, a nobleman of 
 Crete, having a quarrel with some Venetians, drew his 
 sword, and wounded several of them ; a melee ensued, 
 they called to arms, and all the Venetians that happened 
 to be around assailed and abused him badly ; but Veniero, 
 the Venetian general, as if this had not been enough, 
 had him arrested, and hung without mercy. Don 
 John, considering his authority offended, was resolved 
 to take a solemn revenge against the Venetians, refusing 
 to listen to all the arguments with which Marcantonio 
 Colonna, and the Venetian Admiral Barbarigo, tried to 
 pacify him. But God, who watched over our safety, 
 caused the arrival of the unhappy news of the loss of
 
 Death. 285 
 
 Famagosta; and that Marcantonio Bragadino and Astorre 
 Baglioni, after having defended it valorously for ten 
 months, were forced through want of ammunition, and 
 the impatience of the citizens, to surrender it with 
 honorable conditions. But the barbarian conqueror, 
 violating his oath, ordered Bragadino's ears to be cut off, 
 and then, having dragged him ignominiously to the 
 market-place, after unheard of barbarities had him 
 skinned alive ; nor being yet satisfied with this, he caused 
 the skin to be filled with straw, and hung to the mast of 
 a galley, exhibiting through Soria and the other Turkish 
 countries this infamous trophy. It was on this occasion 
 that Don John, shutting his eyes, and becoming pale as 
 death, seemed like a man who had received a powerful 
 blow upon the head ; and he remained thus for a little 
 while ; then with regal dignity he turned appeased to 
 Yeniero, and extending his hand to him said : ' Peace ! 
 We have no enemies but the Turks.' His aspect, the 
 words, and the manner in which they were proffered, 
 made all who stood around him shudder : imagine what 
 effect they would have had upon the enemies ! Marcan- 
 tonio Colonna, who stood by him, related to me that in 
 the fierce sparkling of the eyes of this magnanimous 
 Prince he seemed to read the death sentence of twenty 
 thousand infidels. Veniero pressed the invincible hand, 
 kissed it, and could not help exclaiming with sobs: 
 * Unfortunate Bragadino ! Unhappy blood !' Both 
 Spaniards, Germans, and Italians, laying aside all ani- 
 mosity, threw their arms weeping around each other's 
 necks, kissed each other's cheeks, and cried : ' Peace !' 
 Then with a sudden change they thrust their hands in 
 their hair, stamped the pavement with their feet, and
 
 286 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 with loud voices cried : ' To arms, to arms !' Be it 
 so ! replied Don John, unsheathing his sword, which, 
 glittering in the rays of the Sun, seemed to send forth 
 sparks of divine fire ; and ordered to be unfolded upon 
 his galley the banner of the League sent by the Pope, 
 whereon was painted the Crucifix, and beneath it the 
 escutcheons of the Allies, in the middle that of the 
 Pope, on the right that of the King of Spam, and on the 
 left that of the Venetians. The wind, and it was no 
 small omen of victory, unfolded through the air the 
 glorious banner, so that it seemed as if invisible hands 
 held it spread by the four 'corners ; and Don John, fixing 
 his eyes upon it with pious enthusiasm, exclaimed : In 
 hoc signo vinces ! In hoc signo vinces ! exclaimed 
 those near him, and these sacred words spread like light- 
 ning, and were in a moment repeated from the most 
 distant ships. The great Comendador, who had had a 
 secret order from the king to hinder the enterprise, 
 whether he thought it too dangerous to oppose it, or 
 that he was carried along by the imiversal consent, 
 changing his conduct and bearing, showed more enthu- 
 siasm than the others, and murmured often : They may 
 order us from Madrid to remain quiet, but before the 
 enemy one cannot obey such mandates ! 
 
 "Another circumstance in which we saw the hand of 
 God openly manifested was this, that the enemy being 
 distant, and able to avoid a battle and in fact some of 
 their captains had advised it there suddenly arrived some 
 spies who notified them that the greater part of the 
 Christian fleet had remained behind. This information 
 was partly true, but had been a thousand fold exagge- 
 rated by report ; for the only truth was, that the twenty-six
 
 Death. 287 
 
 galleys commanded by Don Caesar Davalo of Arragon, 
 who was then in great grief mourning the death of his 
 brother the Marquis of Pescara, and who together with 
 Don John had been appointed as commander-iii-chief of 
 the whole enterprise, had set sail late, and did not arrive 
 in time. Upon these ships were the German infantry 
 commanded by the Counts Alberigo Lodrone, and 
 Yinciguerra d'Arco, so that, the battle having been won 
 principally by the efforts of the Italians, we lost no glory 
 on their account. Our spies also led us into the same 
 error, for they, badly informed, reported to us that in the 
 Turkish fleet Aluch Ali, Dey of Algiers, with his eighty 
 galleys was wanting. Thus the desire of fighting on 
 both sides was very great, each thinking to have the 
 advantage over the other. Ali Pasha, Grand Admiral 
 of the sea, finding the wind in his favor, without any 
 longer delay moved all his fleet with much haste, but 
 little order, from the Gulf of Lepanto. The knight 
 (uldandrada, sent out to reconnoitre, returned the sixth 
 of October, which was Saturday, in the dead of night, to 
 notify us of the approach of the enemy : we sailed all 
 night, and the next morning at dawn the seventh of 
 October, the day of the Virgin St. Giustina, we came 
 abreast of the Curzolares Islands, anciently called 
 Echinades, about thirty-five miles distant from Lepanto. 
 At this moment Giovanni Andrea Doria returned, notify- 
 ing us to prepare for battle, for the Turkish fleet, favored 
 by the wind, was coming upon us. Then Don John with 
 great calmness ordered the fleet to be formed in battle 
 array, which was this : the galleys were divided into a 
 centre, two wings, an advanced guard, and a rear guard, 
 so that it represented the form of an eagle. Giovanni
 
 288 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Andrea Doria commanded the right wing with fifty-three 
 galleys, and hoisted a green flag on the main-mast of his 
 ship. Agostino Barbarigo led the left wing with as many 
 galleys, hoisting a yellow flag. Don Alvaro di Baxan, 
 Marquis of Santacroce, was appointed to the command of 
 the rear-guard with thirty galleys, and displayed a white 
 flag on his ship, ready to come to assistance wherever the 
 need required. Don John of Cardona, also carrying a 
 white flag, led the advanced-guard with eight galleys. 
 The centre, or as they call it, the battle, consisting of 
 sixty-one galleys, was under the command of Don John, 
 with a blue flag at the mast-head ; and as they expected 
 that the greatest efforts of the enemy would be turned 
 in this direction, they placed in defence of the Heal galley, 
 on the right the Capitana* of the Pope with General 
 Marcantonio Colonna, Romagasso, and other Knights ; on 
 the left the Venetian Capitana, with General Sebastiano 
 Veniero, after which was the Capitana of Genoa with 
 Alessandro Farnese, Prince of Parma, and on the other 
 side the Capitana of Savoy with Francesco Maria della 
 Rovere, Duke of Urbino : the sides of this battle were 
 closed on the right by the Capitana of Malta, on the left 
 by the Capitana Lomellina, where I was; aside the 
 stern of the Heal stood the Capitana and Padrona of 
 Spain with the great Comendador Requesens. It was 
 a very wise plan, as the effect showed, that of towing the 
 six Venetian galeazzas, each armed with four hundred 
 chosen arquebusiers, sixty brass cannons, bombs and 
 rockets of all kinds, about half a mile ahead of the fleet; 
 two of them commanded by Andrea Pesaro and Pietro 
 
 * Flagship.
 
 Death. 289 
 
 Pisani in front of the right wing ; the other two of 
 Agostino and Antonio Bragadino, before the left ; and the 
 last two of Giacomo Guoro and Francesco Duodo in front 
 of the battle. Alas ! why have I not a poetic genius, 
 and why does not all Christendom listen, that I may extol 
 with song, which makes even mortals eternal, those 
 magnanimous men who came voluntarily to take a part 
 in this memorable day ? I would pray the Mother of God 
 to recall to my memory the names of all the brave who 
 conquered living, and the martyrs who conquered dying, 
 and particularly the last, for although I believe that they 
 are rejoicing now in the celestial abodes, yet the sound 
 of deserved praise arises more welcome than incense, 
 even to the blessed ones hi heaven. But let us not pluck 
 the laurel ; for perhaps the poet will be born who with 
 better voice will be able to dispense the deserved reward 
 to these valorous men : it behoves us at least to hope so ! 
 From the opposite side, borne by a north-east wind 
 which blew favorably to it, the enemy's fleet advanced, 
 occupying a larger space of water, hastily and in disorder, 
 as if to exterminate us, and fearing to lose the opportunity 
 of a certain victory. It was in the form of a crescent, and 
 consisted of three hundred or more ships. Ali Pasha, 
 Grand Admiral, and Pertau, general of the troops, 
 commanded the battle : Siroco, Governor of Alexandria, 
 and Mehemet Bey, Governor of Xegropont, led the right 
 wing ; Uluch Ali, dey of Algiers, the left. The Turkish 
 Heal was no less strongly defended than ours, having at 
 its sides six of the principal galleys, three on one side, and 
 three on the other, upon which on the right were Pertau, 
 Mamud Rais, captain of the janissaries, Lader Bey, 
 governor of Metelin, and on the left Mustapha, treasurer, 
 
 13
 
 290 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Caracoza, governor of Velona, and Carajali, captain of 
 the Corsairs. Don John, as soon as he saw his fleet in 
 order, went in a light barge flying from galley to galley, 
 encouraging the men with very short but vigorous words 
 to fight bravely, for the time, the place, and his nature 
 did not allow of a long speech. It is said that when he 
 came under the Capitana of Venice, in seeing Sebastiano 
 Veniero, an old man of three score years and ten, all 
 armed with a sparkling and splendid armor, with his 
 head uncovered showing his white locks, his face burning 
 with martial fire inciting his men to act valorously, 
 admiring the bravery of the man, he cried to him : 
 Father ! Bless us all. . . And Veniero, raising his eyes 
 to heaven, as if begging from on high the power of 
 blessing, stretched his arm, and making the sign of the 
 Cross exclaimed : Be all blessed in the name of the 
 Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. From all the 
 galleys there then issued forth a shout foreboding ap- 
 proaching slaughter." 
 
 " I remember," interrupted Titta, " that when he 
 arrived under our Lomellina, he kissed his hand to us, 
 and cried: Brave men, I say nothing to you! and 
 disappeared." 
 
 " The Capuchin friars and the Jesuits with crucifixes 
 in their hands, fearless of the imminent danger, ran up 
 and down the galleys, cheering all spirits, granting to 
 all the remission of their sins, innumerable indulgences, 
 and a certain hope of conquering, and immense booty. 
 
 "When Don John returned on board his galley, he 
 noticed at a little distance a small vessel full of powerful 
 rowers as if waiting: he inquired about it of the captain, 
 who replied: he had it prepared for any emergency
 
 Death. 291 
 
 that might happen, in order that he could retreat ; and 
 Don John replied fiercely : Sink it to the bottom ; for 
 I s\vear to God that I had rather die fighting for Christ, 
 than escape with shame. And to the Comendador, who 
 by duty of his ofiice warned him to think better before 
 adventuring on a decisive battle, he replied : Now 
 the time for counsel is past; it is the tune for com- 
 bat, 
 
 " The Turkish Heal begins to fire : the sound of the 
 artillery is spread ; the signal is given, our Heal reph'es ; 
 the battle is engaged. It was the design of the enemy 
 to push forward with the wind in their favor in the shape 
 of a crescent, surround oxir wings, pass behind, and en- 
 close us in a circle of death. They took little notice of 
 the six galeazzas, and those valorous Venetians did not 
 stir until the enemy was within half an arquebuse-shot ; 
 then, suddenly, and at the same moment, they fired three 
 hundred and sixty cannons, and two thousand four hun- 
 dred arquebuses! The terrible noise astounded even 
 those who had caused it ; the sea shook as if by a storm, 
 and the galleys, hurled by a most violent shock, began to 
 roll in disorder ; but our men very soon regained their 
 spirits on discovering the great damage done to the 
 enemy, and loading their arquebuses with wonderful 
 readiness continued to fire desperately upon them. And 
 I desire you to know that on this occasion the arquebuse 
 with a lock was of great service to us, for being small, 
 and easy to manage, it enabled our men to fire three 
 times before the enemy could fire once with their heavy 
 ones: and this was the first moment of our victory. 
 Skill conquered fury, and the Moslems, unaccustomed to 
 such encounter, had to keep their distance all torn and
 
 292 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 bloody, change the order of battle, and form themselves 
 into three divisions like us. 
 
 " Although the valor of our men was very great, yet 
 the Lord wished to show with a more visible sign that 
 he was fighting for us, for just then happened a memo- 
 rable changing of the wind ; the north-east, which had 
 so far been favorable to the Turks, ceased, and there 
 arose a south-west propitious to the Christians, carrying 
 the smoke against them, and preventing them from 
 seeing. Siroco, in the mean while, not at all daunted, 
 ordered his galleys to avoid the galeazzas, and, grazing 
 the shore where the river Acheloo falls into the sea, to 
 rush between the land and the galleys of Barbarigo, 
 and strive to assail him in the rear. Barbarigo, how- 
 ever, not a less skilful captain, ordered his extreme 
 galleys to approach the land, and describe with the 
 others a diagonal line, forming an acute angle of which 
 one side was formed by the land, the other by his galleys ; 
 and taking Siroco in the flank, with the aid of the pro- 
 pitious wind pushed him towards the island. The fight 
 was carried on desperately on both sides ; but the Turk- 
 ish galleys continually losing sea, struck against the 
 shore, the Christians followed and reached them, and as 
 many Mussulmans as fell into their hands they put to 
 death ; of the galleys some fell into our hands, others 
 were sunk by the artillery, others burnt. "VYc did not, 
 however, gain the victory without blood, for, to say 
 nothing of many others, in the very heat of the muk'-e 
 between Siroco and Barbarigo, almost at the same 
 moment the former fell dead, and the latter mortally 
 wounded with an arrow in his eye, in the act of re- 
 moving the shield from before his face, hi order to spur
 
 Death. 293 
 
 the combatants to do their utmost. Barbarigo, feeling 
 himself mortally struck, whilst staggering back, ap- 
 pointed in his place Mario Quirini, who, seconded by 
 Antonio Canale and by Cicogna, followed the course of 
 victory, destroying the remains of this fleet commanded 
 by Mehernet Bey, Pasha of Xegropont, and by Ali, the 
 redoutable Corsair. It was in this action that Cicogna, 
 wounded in the hands and face by a grenade, bearing 
 manfully the most intense pain, would not retire until he 
 had taken the enemy's galley, which now is preserved as 
 a noble trophy in the Arsenal of Venice ; and the valiant 
 Antonio Casale dressed with a long and white garment 
 thickly lined with cotton, a hat of the same material and 
 shoes of ropes in order not to slip, swinging a double- 
 handed sword, filled with terror and slaughter the 
 enemy's galleys upon which he leaped with wonderful 
 dexterity and nimbleness. Giovanni Contarini had the 
 glory of taking the galley of Siroco, and finding on it 
 this enemy of the Christian name dead, had his head cut 
 off and fixing it iipon a spear cried out three times : 
 Behold the head of Siroco ! in order to encourage his 
 men, and terrify the enemy. 
 
 " The dying Barbarigo was lying near the wheel, and 
 from time to time^asked those around him : Have we 
 conquered yet ? When Quirino, tearing the flag from 
 the enemy's mast, ran to where Barbarigo was, crying : 
 Victory ! the dying man wiped the blood from his 
 eyes heavy with death's sleep, and saw the hated flag, 
 and smiled ; then he begged them to hand it to him, 
 and grasping it convulsively, he rolled himself hi it as in 
 a winding sheet, and expired. We, daring not to sepa- 
 rate him from the trophy upon which his glorious soul
 
 , 
 
 294 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 breathed its last, wrapped in the same flag buried him 
 with great honors in consecrated ground. 
 
 "But the greatest struggle took place around the battk. 
 Ali Pasha had come forward boldly, and as the Turks 
 are accustomed to, with a deafening noise of drums, trum- 
 pets, and similar warlike instruments ; and they even 
 presumed to frighten us more with threats, cries, and 
 striking of weapons against each other. Don John, 
 armed with mail, holding a heavy battle-axe in his hand, 
 placed himself with all his person exposed in a lofty 
 place on the poop, and ordered Lopez di Figheroa, 
 leader of the arquibusiers, that whatever the enemies 
 might say or do, no one should dare to open the fire 
 until he had given a signal by lifting his battle-axe. The 
 Moslems advancing nearer and nearer, fired their arque- 
 buses and arrows, with no small loss on our side ; and 
 we were also greatly damaged by two cannon in the 
 enemy's prow, which would have cleared our decks if 
 they had been quicker in loading and firing them. It 
 seemed hard to us to be forced to remain inactive during 
 so great a slaughter, so much the more as from time to 
 time we saw some friend or relative fall at our side, re- 
 moved all bleeding, and carried below. We should have 
 accused Don John of cowardice, if w"e had not known 
 what a man he was ; and looking at him, he seemed to 
 us a statue of bronze amid bullets and arrows which 
 hissed around him, and of which he took no more notice 
 than of the wind which lifted his hair. When the Turk- 
 ish Heal arrived within less than half an arquebuse shot 
 from us, Don John raised his battle-axe, and whirled it 
 impetuously around his head : our fire seemed one single 
 shot; the smoke moving towards the enemy prevented
 
 . 
 
 Death. 295 
 
 us from seeing the damage which they had received; 
 when it cleared off, the enemy's deck looked almost 
 deserted. But before the smoke had entirely passed 
 away Don John ordered the oarsmen to pull with their 
 w r hole might, and the galley, pushed also by the wind, 
 flew h'ke a bird. Don John had also prepared another 
 stratagem, which was this, to have the beak of his galley 
 suddenly cut, so that, approaching nearer to the enemies, 
 there would be a better opportunity of boarding them : 
 this example was immediately followed by us all, and 
 was another cause of victory. 
 
 "The smoke disappeared, and All's galley seemed 
 almost deserted. Don John, seizing the opportunity, 
 cried : Forward, cavaliers, let us go to victory . . . we 
 cannot but conquer, for dying, there awaits us a palm in 
 heaven ; living, a laurel on the earth. And cutting short 
 his speech, being more eager to act, he ran impetuously 
 forward, followed by his valiant knights, and behold in an 
 instant they boarded and entered the Turkish Real, 
 Ah', meanwhile, a wary captain, had called aid from the 
 surrounding ships, who, approaching quickly, by means 
 of ladders and ropes, ascended from abaft, whilst ours 
 entered from the prow : thence the battle was renewed 
 more bitterly, and all concentrated about the mainmast ; 
 the Turks were not able to expel the Christians, nor the 
 Christians to master entirely the half conquered galley. 
 The crowd was so great, and the ranks so close, that 
 they could not use any other weapon than the poniard, 
 and the combatants, crazy with fury, used their teeth as 
 if they had been wild beasts ; and one could have seen 
 that forest of heads bending to and fro, like a field of 
 ripe gram agitated by contrary winds. They asked for
 
 296 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 no quarter, nor desired it : it was a war of extermination^ 
 But whatever might have been the cause, behold the 
 Christians began to waver, drew back, and the adversa- 
 ries where ours raised their feet, placed theirs, and grew 
 bold hi proportion as ours lost courage : already many 
 of the retreating, pressed by the irresistible impetus, fell 
 headlong into the water, others more fortunate leaped 
 upon the Heal of Spain. . . What more ? Don John 
 himself is carried along hi the shameful flight. Our 
 commanders, though, not less wary than the enemy, had 
 already reinforced the Meal with fresh troops, who 
 coming to the rescue not only prevented the Turks from 
 boarding our galley, not only held them steadfast upon 
 the extreme edge of the prow, but pushed them back 
 forcibly, and gave a chance to ours to board again the 
 Turkish Heal. A new struggle was engaged upon the 
 galley's deck, and already for more than an hour blood 
 had been shed, nor could it be told where victory would 
 lean ; the deck was covered with blood, all along the 
 gangways, down in the sides the galley drips blood, the 
 sea raising its foam horribly red seemed to boil with 
 blood. Alas! what cruel wine war pours in her ban- 
 quets! Four times were we repulsed, four tunes we 
 boarded the Turkish Meal: torn on both sides, on both 
 sides many illustrious dead, and the surviving ones 
 partly wounded, partly so exhausted, as not to be able to 
 raise their swords. In one of these struggles the valor- 
 ous knight Bernardino Cardine was killed without any 
 wound: a cannon ball struck his shield, which, being 
 covered with excellent steel plate, did not break, but hit 
 so violently against his breast, that he fell dead on the 
 deck. And the last time Don John was repulsed,
 
 Death. 297 
 
 another noteworthy accident happened ; he was retreat- 
 ing without ever turning his head from the enemy, when 
 either his foot slipped upon the gory deck, or by some 
 other accident lie fell, and was on the point of foiling 
 headlong into the water, had it not been for a Spanish 
 soldier, who had never departed from his side, and who 
 seizing him by the waist with his right hand, held him- 
 self fast with his left in the rigging. Suddenly the soldier 
 uttered a cry ; his left arm hung down severed, he and 
 Don John would have fallen overboard, had not the 
 Spaniard happened to seize a rope with his teeth, and 
 hold fast to it until, with ready aid, they were both 
 saved. 
 
 " Don John unhurt prepared himself for the last struggle. 
 Valiant men, he cried, yet one last effort, and we 
 have conquered. Whilst he was about reorganizing his 
 Spanish knights, who on that day showed really a Roman 
 valor, two events happened which gave us the victory. 
 The galley commanded by Alfonzo d'Appiano thundered 
 with its artillery on the Turkish Real, and being of low 
 deck, sent its shots into the hull of the enemy, destroying 
 everything they met, and this was one of the chief things 
 to which we owed our victory. A shot hit a large beam, 
 and hurled it with so much violence against Ali, that he, 
 hurt in many places, struck violently against the main- 
 mast, and gushing blood from many wounds, fell down 
 dying upon the deck. Xow what was Marcantonio 
 Colonna doing ? Had his valor, the memory of past deeds, 
 the warmth with which he had undeitaken this enterprise, 
 foiled him all at once, and in this great moment of need ? 
 How could he, a general of the Pontiff, see unmoved so 
 much Christian blood shed ? He was sailing over the 
 13* 
 
 Ji*
 
 298 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 waters as if he was taking a pleasure trip to enjoy the 
 evening breeze ; he even disappeared from the deck, and 
 no one knew what had become of him. This most 
 singular man had had the constancy to remain in the 
 midst of the fire of artillery, the breaking of beams, the 
 falling of masts and ropes, amidst the horrible and various 
 aspects of death, without moving an inch, awaiting the 
 opportune time of exterminating the enemy : when he 
 perceived the chance before him, he rushed below deck, 
 and addressing the galley-slaves at the oars, thus spoke : 
 Men ! God had redeemed you, and you have rendered 
 yourselves unworthy of the redemption ; the water of 
 baptism was poured on your heads in vain, for you have 
 so contaminated them with wicked deeds, that there is 
 no more room for a blessing. You despair of your eternal 
 safety. Your mothers, your wives, your children, when- 
 ever in this world they proffer your name, bow down 
 their faces for shame ; the citizens look upon you as wild 
 beasts. Heaven repulses you, and the earth abhors you. 
 No matter, I will reconcile you both to God and men : 
 I can so do that your names shah 1 be recalled with pride 
 by your relatives ; I can so do that the hand of the most 
 noble knight of Christendom shall be stretched towards 
 yours without esteeming it dishonored. . ." And those 
 poor men cried with one voice : "Alas! our Lord, have 
 mercy upon us ! Give us at least the chance of dying in 
 battle." "Be it so," replied Marcantonio, "I give you 
 your liberty : do not move from your posts : I return on 
 deck : when you hear the sound of a trumpet, be ready, 
 and at the second blast, bend to your oars with the 
 greatest strength that nature has given you. When you 
 shall perceive that we have struck the enemy's galley,
 
 Death. 299 
 
 then come out, and fight as your souls may inspire you. 
 He returned on deck, and seizing the helm directed the 
 prow against the vessel of Ali. The trumpet sounded 
 the first blast, then the second. The galley leaped like a 
 wounded seal through the water, which, struck violently 
 by the oars, surged and gurgled, foaming impetuously ; 
 then darting over a short space struck with an irresistible 
 impetus the designed place. The Turkish Heal was 
 almost upset : on one side the deck was plunged into the 
 sea, on the other it even showed its keel ; the greater part 
 of its defenders was hurled with great force far into the 
 water, and it would have been even so with the Admiral, 
 had he not grappled the mainmast with both arms. 
 When the galley righted, Colonna, taking advantage of 
 the enemy's confusion, jumped on board accompanied 
 by his men, and made himself master of it. This deed 
 rekindled the ire of the commanders of the galleys 
 ordered to the defence of the Real, and seven of them 
 moved at once to the rescue, and threatened Don John. 
 Veniero alone moved to meet them all, sustaining their 
 attacks with wonderful valor. But that fierce old man, 
 overcome by the number, saw every moment his men 
 diminish ; an arrow had pierced his foot, and partly on 
 account of the intensity of the pain, partly by the loss of 
 blood, he felt that he could withstand it no longer : there 
 was urgent need of help, but he would not bend to ask it. 
 Giovanni Loredano and Caterino Malipiero saw the 
 danger of the illustrious old man, and rushed to his 
 assistance ; these two chivalrous youths could have 
 remained behind the bulwarks, which were to us a great 
 shelter through that battle, but their bold nature did 
 not allow it ; they stood both exposed from their waist
 
 300 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 upwards, and fighting like true champions of Christ, 
 they fell both dead on the deck, hit by several shots. 
 The Marquis of Santa Croce, who had already moved to 
 their aid, arrived, if not in time to save their lives, at 
 least opportunely to avenge their deaths : the Turks were 
 all cut to pieces, and the galleys fell into our hands. 
 The report tells that Veniero made himself master of 
 the Capitana of Pertau Pasha, but it is not true, for it 
 was the Lomellina that conquered Pertau. . ." 
 
 "Ah! my Lord Duke," interrupted Titta, "it ill 
 becomes you to relate this part of the battle. It was 
 indeed so; we conquered the Capitana of the Pasha, 
 and in truth, if we used all our utmost efforts to conquer, 
 the enemies also used no less desperate resistance to 
 oppose us. I remember that the valiant Marino Contarino 
 died in this affray ; and, with immortal example, the four 
 brothers Cornaro ; alas ! the flower of the most magnani- 
 mous knights was dying ; but, although beset on all sides 
 by the enemy's galleys, we did not abandon our prize, and 
 rushed on, determined to conquer or to die. It is true 
 that every footstep we advanced cost us blood, but they 
 were footsteps to victory: already panting and fighting 
 with our daggers, we reached the middle of the galloy. 
 My Lord the Duke at the head of all seemed an angel 
 who led us to triumph . . ." 
 
 "And if you, Titta, had loved your master less, by 
 this time there would only be left of him the bare bones, 
 and the name. I recall with grief to my mind Orazio and 
 Virginio Orsini, my relatives, who fell mortally wounded 
 at my feet ; and my nephew Fabio, who, hit by a shot on 
 his shoulder, rolled on the deck, and died without 
 lamenting the flower of Ms lost youth, happy at being
 
 Death. 30 1 
 
 called so soon to the peace of God ; and I, whilst I bent 
 down to help him, felt my left leg transfixed by an arrow, 
 and as I lifted my head, a hand grasping a poniard was 
 about striking me unprepared for defence ; the poniard 
 escaped from the hand, and fell harmless upon my body, 
 the hand also fell upon my head, but severed from the 
 arm, and with it a torrent of blood poured on my face . . ." 
 
 " So it was ; it came in my way without my thinking 
 of it, and I cut it off like a reed . . ." 
 
 " And I profess myself indebted to you for my life, and 
 as long as Paolo Giordano Orsini shall have a heart and 
 a home, Titta Carbonana will occupy a place in them . . . 
 Let us drink ! To the memory of the dead in the battle 
 of Lepanto !" 
 
 " May God keep them all in His glory!" was answered 
 from all sides. 
 
 " Come now," continued the Duke, " let us finish the 
 story. Our Lomellina, aided by Vincenzo Querini, took 
 five out of the seven galleys that fought against it. 
 Pertau, throwing himself into a skiff, using his oars 
 vigorously, went off; and we saw the back of this cruel 
 man turned in bitter flight. Many boast of having killed 
 Caracozza; but the truth is that Giovanbattista Benedetti, 
 of Cyprus, a man of great valor, having overcome the 
 Corcut galley, noticed Caracozza near by, and rushed 
 desperately upon him. "With no less fury Caracozza fell 
 upon Benedetti, whether driven to it by a desire for 
 glory, or, as it was supposed, by an old enmity: they met: 
 a discharge of arquebuses fired from both sides enve- 
 loped them in smoke, and when it cleared off, they were 
 both dead, shot with many bullets in the breast. The 
 command of Benedetti devolved on Onorato Gaetano,
 
 302 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 nephew of the Pope, who, as we have heard from persons 
 worthy of belief, seconded by Alessandro Negroni and 
 by Pattaro Buzzacherino, with no great difficulty, brought 
 this honorable fight to a happy end. The Christian slaves 
 upon the Turkish galleys, noticing by the confusion that 
 fortune was abandoning their hated masters, break their 
 chains, and seizing those arms which despair or chance 
 places in their hands, take a bitter revenge for their long 
 suiferings, and insure the victory. Whilst these events 
 were taking place in the battle, and on the left wing of 
 the Christian armada, the right wing was meeting with 
 an adverse fate. Giovanni Andrea Doria, who was to 
 detach himself only four lengths of a galley from the 
 battle, transgressed his orders, and extended his line too 
 far. They say that he did this with a good intention, 
 both in order to give more freedom of action to the 
 battle, and to the left wing to place themselves in good 
 order, and also for fear of being surrounded by Uluch Ah", 
 who came against him with a greater number of galleys 
 than his own ; or perhaps in order to take the wind aft, 
 so as to fall with greater force upon the enemy. But 
 Uluch Ali, a most expert sea captain, when he saw that 
 the galleys of the right wing, so scattered and distant, 
 could not easily help each other, without minding that 
 he was on the lee, beset on all sides the scattered ships 
 with a superior force, and after killing the principal 
 captains, took twelve of them. On this occasion the great 
 valor of Benedetto Soranzo was manifest ; a man rather 
 to be compared to the ancient than to modern heroes ; 
 for seeing the greater part of his companions around 
 him dead or wounded, and he himself being wounded in 
 several places, he had not the heart to allow his galley to
 
 Death. 303 
 
 be trodden by the foot of a Moslem, nor that one day the 
 nu'iny, refitting it, should use it against his most beloved 
 country ; therefore, rushing below where the ammunition 
 of powder was stored, he set fire to it, and huiied, with 
 terrible explosion, himself, the galley, and all the enemies 
 that stood on it, torn and mutilated into the air. One 
 alone by a lucky chance escaped, and it was Giacomo 
 Giustiniani, who, thrown uninjured far distant into the 
 water, succeeded miraculously in saving himself by 
 swimming. Nor ought I to be silent about the fierce 
 encounter of the Capitana of Malta, which, assailed by 
 three Turkish galleys, fought intrepidly ; but Uluch Ali, 
 recognising the flag of St. John, and as he professed 
 himself a mortal enemy to the Order of Malta, did not 
 shame to send against it three other galleys hi order to 
 have it at all cost. Pietro Giustignano, general of the 
 Order, seeing that there was no chance left for himself 
 and his knights, exhorted them to die chivalrously, since 
 there was no hope of conquering, and as to surrendering, 
 not one even thought of it. This combat of six galleya 
 against one, glorious for the Christians, infamous for the 
 Turks, lasted three hours ; two thirds of the rowers lay 
 dead, the other third were bleeding ; the general killed 
 with three ghastly wounds; fifty most noble knights 
 dead ; the galley occupied even to the main castle ; the 
 banner fallen into the enemy's hands ; and yet the sur- 
 vivors strove to defend themselves. Agnolo Martellini, 
 a Florentine knight, who was less wounded than the 
 others, sustained the honorable and hopeless defence. 
 Uluch Ali, mad with rage, ordered the galley to be set 
 on fire, but Doria, spurring his oarsmen to their utmost, 
 reached it in time for revenge, and accomplished it ; for
 
 304 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 falling upon the enemy, wearied by the bitter struggle, 
 he made a horrible slaughter, killing Carag Ali, Captain 
 of Algiers, with many other Turkish officers. And 
 glorious with fame and misfortune were the Tuscan 
 galleys, which unfortunately were under the orders of 
 Doria. The Florentina, assailed by seven small galleys, 
 was empty both of soldiers and crew; Tommaso dei 
 Medici, badly wounded, alone survived ; but the greater 
 part of the knights of St. Stephen died fighting till their 
 last breath. The galley of St. John, commanded by the 
 knight Agnolo Biffali, suffered a struggle no less fatal ; 
 for the captain was wounded by two arquebuse shots on 
 the neck ; and besides the knights Simone Tornabuoni 
 and Luigi Ciacchi, there perished sixty most valiant 
 soldiers; and worse would the galley upon which Ascianio 
 della Cornia was fighting have fared, surrounded by four 
 of the enemy, if Alfouzo di Appiano, admiral of the 
 Florentine galleys, had come less quickly to his aid. But 
 now there rang from every side the cry of victory, and 
 .Uluch Ali, seeing all the enemy's armada move against 
 him to surround and overcome him, resolved to draw off. 
 Don Giovanni di Cardona endeavored to oppose his re- 
 treat with eight Sicilian galleys, but thrust aside by supe- 
 rior force, with no little damage, he was obliged to yield 
 the way. The Admirals Canale and Querini endeavored 
 to give chase to him, but, their oarsmen being too much 
 exhausted by the fatigues endured,with infinite bitterness, 
 they had to allow him to save himself with his forty ships, 
 our galley of Corfu, and the banner of St. John. In 
 this flight two incidents worthy of note happened. 
 Giovanbattista Mastrillo of Nota and Giulio Caraffa, a 
 Neapolitan, whilst they were, with several companions,
 
 Death. 305 
 
 prisoners on two separate brigs, showing at the same 
 moment the same boldness, as if they had agreed upon 
 it before, rose against the Turks, killed the Rays and all 
 those who attempted to resist, and having become, from 
 slaves and conquered, free and conquerors, they returned 
 to us with the enemy's brigs full of slaves and very rich 
 booty. 
 
 "The sun was setting, surrounded by black clouds, 
 throwing across the waves an oblique ray, so that it hap- 
 pened that the part enlightened shone with a vivid 
 glare, while the rest of the sea was covered with dark- 
 ness : to the roar of the sea were added cries, impreca- 
 tions, prayers, sobs, which afar seemed like a single wail, 
 the weeping of Nature over the slaughter of her children, 
 certainly not created by her to thus tear each other to 
 pieces ! Within that streak of light, deeds were seen to 
 make even angels weep ; and some, but few, really wor- 
 thy of the celestial origin of man. We could see some 
 people regardless of danger, ascend the burning galleys, 
 rush amidst the flames, without fear that, the powder 
 taking fire, plunder and plunderers might be shattered 
 to atoms ; others not yet satisfied with fighting, urged 
 by implacable hatred, grasping each other by the hair 
 or beard, and, in the lack of weapons, striking with their 
 fists, tearing each other with their teeth, and now one 
 head, now another, disappearing under the water, until 
 the latter, as if disdainful that so much anger should yet 
 last in creatures so weak and perishable, whirled them 
 into its immense bosom, to rise no more. A little fur- 
 ther on, two, three, or four men would contend for a 
 mast, board, or beam, in order to cling to it, and remain 
 until some aid could arrive ; but while with more charity
 
 306 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 and better wisdom, that plank of safety might have been 
 enough for all, wasting their last strength to possess it, 
 each one exclusively, a common fate overpowered them 
 all; others, stupid with fear, hating to drown, would get 
 hold of a burning fragment, and escaping the water, per- 
 ish by the flames ; and an infinite number of skiifs rowed 
 on this side and on that, full of people drunk with 
 victory, who used the heads of Turks swimming on the 
 water for targets, as the hunter does the ducks in a 
 pond ; and to those who approached begging for their 
 lives, they would allow that they should catch hold of 
 the edge of the skiffs, or extend an oar as if to help them, 
 then with the axe would cut their hands or cleave their 
 heads with shocking and cruel wounds. A few of these 
 skiffs went in search of some beloved relative or com- 
 panion, whether alive or dead : sacred but vain under- 
 taking ! not entirely vain, however ; for some succeeded 
 in finding what they sought, and saved a dear friend 
 from a watery grave : if yet alive, they would strive with 
 all manner of remedies to bandage his wounds, and pre- 
 serve his life ; but if dead, they would clothe him, arm 
 him with his best armor, place a sword in his hand, and 
 honor him with praise and worship as if a martyr. 
 
 " This battle, in which more than five hundred ships 
 were engaged, lasted from midday till after four o'clock : 
 of the enemy there died, some say twenty thousand, 
 some thirty thousand, and some, even more ; no one 
 counted them.* On our side, seven thousand six hun- 
 dred and fifty-six failed to answer the roll ; we liberated 
 
 * But no one counted them. This was the expression used by that 
 judicious Ludovico Muratori narrating in his Annals the Battle of Le- 
 panto.
 
 Death. 307 
 
 twelve thousand Christian slaves; took two hundred 
 ships ; lost only the galley of Corfu : of all the other 
 fillips of the enemy, except the forty escaped with 
 Uluch Ali, some were sunk, some burned ; we took one 
 hundred and seventeen cannons, two hundred and fifty- 
 eight smaller pieces of artillery, and seventeen mortars ; 
 the prisoners falling into our hands were four thousand, 
 among whom were the two sons of Ali Pasha, the 
 oldest of whom died at Naples of a broken heart ; and 
 the other was kindly treated by the Pope, and then, at 
 the instance of Don John, restored without ransom. 
 The booty was immense. In the gaEey of Ali were found 
 twenty-two thousand crowns of gold, in the other of 
 Caracozza, forty thousand ; and in all the others a great 
 quantity of money, weapons, cloth, and rich garments ; 
 since the Turks, thinking by merely showing themselves 
 to put the Christians to flight, and that they were going 
 on an excursion rather than to a fight, came provided 
 with their best habiliments and draperies, and sur- 
 rounded by all those luxuries which they Were accus- 
 tomed to enjoy in the security of cities ; besides they 
 brought with them the noble spoils of Cyprus and the 
 Christian shores, which in their long voyage they had 
 plundered. 
 
 " But General Veniero, who, having passed the greater 
 part of his life at sea, was a cautious mariner, advised 
 Don John to put into some neighboring port without 
 loss of time, and selected Petala on the coast of Matalia, 
 since the weather threatened a storm. The armada fol- 
 lowed the command, and forcing their sails and oars, 
 rode safely at anchor about nine o'clock in the evening 
 at Petala, only six miles from the scene of battle.
 
 308 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 " Don John, urged by his generous nature, ordered first 
 of all that the wounded should be provided for, and we 
 obeyed as well as we could ; and he himself, without 
 indulging in rest or food, visited the sick. Indeed he 
 could be of little aid to these unfortunate people, but 
 his friendly presence, the chivalry of his aspect, a word 
 of comfort spoken to some" one of them, rendered the 
 pains of the wounds less bitter, and death more tolerable. 
 Now it happened, that while Don John was passing near 
 a wounded man lying on a heap of straw, the latter 
 saluted him familiarly, saying : 
 
 " ' Buenas noches, Don Juan.' 
 
 " And the former, to whom the voice was not new, but 
 who, in that moment, could not remember whose it was, 
 replied in his native tongue, in which the wounded man 
 had spoken : 
 
 " ' God and the Holy Virgin keep you in their guard, 
 brave man: you, as it seems, are wounded; suffer 
 
 patiently ; I pray God for your health With a 
 
 little price you have acquired an immortal fame.' . . 
 
 " * The price is not little ; but no matter, Don John, 
 you do not seem to recognise me.' 
 
 " ' It seems to me ! ... But can it be possible ! . . 
 Don Miguel ?' . . . 
 
 " ' De Cervantes Saavedra, at your service.' 
 
 " ' What ! Don Miguel ? Give me your hand.' 
 
 " ' I have already given it to you, Don John ; if it could 
 grow again, by my faith, I would give it to you again.' 
 
 " And the wounded man showed in the dark his muti- 
 lated arm wrapped in bloody linen. Don John then 
 recognised in him the soldier who had supported him 
 when falling and in danger of his life ; he was silent, and
 
 Death. 
 
 39 
 
 had it not been for the darkness, we should have seen 
 the unconquerable captain weep. After a short pause, 
 Don John resumed in a moved voice : 
 
 " ' And when did you arrive ? And why did you not 
 present yourself?' 
 
 " Don Miguel replied : 
 
 " ' I arrived late, because, thanks to the sacred college 
 of the Muses,* of whom I confess myself a most unwor- 
 thy priest, I had not money enough to pay for a horse 
 or carriage to go from Genoa to Naples ; and God knows 
 how I grieved about it, for fear of not arriving in time ; 
 but as it pleased Our Lady, I reached the army in time 
 for the review which you held at Gomenizze. I had 
 resolved to place myself during the battle at your side, 
 prepared to defend with my life the most valiant cham- 
 pion of Christianity, and the noblest blood of Spain. 
 Fortune, kind to me for this once, assented fully to my 
 design, and I ought to thank her, if, having resigned my 
 life to her, she restored it to me with one hand the less. 
 It seemed then better to me not to discover myself, for 
 if death spared me, I could have pressed your honored 
 hand, and rejoiced in your glory ; if, on the contrary, it 
 Avas destined that I should fall, you, being ignorant of 
 it, would not have grieved for me ; and, finally, if we 
 
 * God of the lyre, and goddesses of song 
 
 In vain for gold your faithful votaries sigh, 
 
 Small need and recompense to them belong ; 
 
 E'en a poor cloak I have not means to buy. 
 
 Apollo, tuo merce, tuo merce" santo 
 Collegio delle Muse, io non mi trovo 
 Tauto per voi, ch'io possa farmi un manto. 
 
 ARIOSTO SATIRE.
 
 31 o Isabella Orsini. 
 
 had both died, we should now be together in the pre- 
 sence of God.' 
 
 " These simple words, yet full of majesty and greatness, 
 filled us \vith wonder ; when a Spaniard interrupted our 
 holy silence, observing: 'Who would have believed 
 we should meet our Poet among the warriors of Lepan- 
 to ?' To which observation Don Miguel calmly replied : 
 
 " ' Sir knight, your wonder would cease, if you would 
 for a moment consider that all that which appears to us 
 great, noble, and glorious, is poetry. Our Don John 
 ought to be hailed as the greatest Poet of Spain. . . . 
 There are two kinds of Poets those who enact glorious 
 things, and those who sing them. Don John has given 
 us the subject of the poem now who will write for him 
 the noble Epic ? Ah ! Lord . . . not I ... for I am not 
 equal to the task.' 
 
 " Thus met the two choicest spirits that Spain ever pro- 
 duced: both very great and both very unhappy, and 
 held in little repute in that country, which shall have 
 fame among posterity principally because it was their 
 native place. 
 
 "As Veniero had foreseen, a terrible storm ragc-d 
 during the night. The burning galleys, blazing more 
 than ever, now appeared upon the summit of the waves, 
 now disappeared ; some, leaning sideways, moved rapidly 
 on the surface of the water. . . Indeed they looked like 
 demons, who issuing from hell had come to gather souls, 
 and to exult over the immense slaughter in the place 
 of combat ! On the morrow, thousands of corpses 
 were washed on shore, and the ocean rolled on as in the 
 first days of creation : the swelling surge breaking 
 against the shore, seemed to say : ' O land, take back
 
 Death. 311 
 
 your children ; behold ! with a breath of my nostrils I 
 have repulsed this bloody and cruel dust, which you call 
 humanity. If your children love to furrow my face, I 
 soon close up this furrow, so that none can find the 
 trace of it. If I bear them on my back, I do it as a boy 
 with playthings, in order to divert myself, and then I 
 break them : behold, I have purified myself from them ; 
 the trace of the slaughter of Lepanto remains upon me 
 as the trace of the halcyon's flight through the air. You, 
 my unworthy sister, allow their cities to stand, and, 
 daily torn and tortured hi a thousand ways, dare not 
 revenge yourself, but from your open furrows send forth 
 everlasting fruits to nourish them ; come ! be wise 
 once, open your bosom and bury them all. If, when 
 greatly angered, you overthrow some city, or swallow 
 some chain of mountains, your wrath seems more like 
 that of a mother who chides, than an executioner who 
 punishes. I, once, came to wash you with a universal 
 ablution, and would gladly do it again, for I see that 
 you are more stained than before, if the word of God did 
 not repulse me from your shores. Come, beg the Crea- 
 tor with me to revoke the command, and I will clean 
 you for ever with the multitude of my waters, with a 
 deluge for this time ; without Noah.' . . Thus my 
 affected fancy imagined. How much all Christendom 
 exulted, you all know. 
 
 "The Holy Pontiff ordered a great part of the wall near 
 the gate of Capena to be thrown down, in order to admit 
 through that opening Marcantonio Colonna into Rome 
 drawn in a triumphal chariot like the ancient Caesars to 
 the Capitol, where there was presented to him a great 
 amount of money, which, accepted by him, he, thanking
 
 312 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 the Pope, deposited in trust to be used as a dowry for 
 many poor and orphan maidens. Thus, rich only with 
 increase of fame, Marcantonio returned home, so much 
 more the greatest, as he was the only one : a truly Roman 
 soul ! The Venetians, whose soldiers fallen in battle 
 amounted to two thirds of the whole armada, would not 
 consent to mourn for the valorous men, who, fighting 
 for the faith, had died for it with weapons in their hands, 
 leaving immortal fame ; and their relatives appeared at 
 the public thanksgivings which were rendered to God, 
 dressed in brocade and other precious robes : they also, 
 a Latin race ! What you may not have heard, is this ; 
 that Philip of Spain was very sorry for the victory, 
 reproaching his brother for having risked the forces of 
 the kingdom, without any advantage resulting to him 
 from the victory; and while the Holy Pontiff, in the 
 effusion of his heart, hailed Don John with the words of 
 the Evangelist : Fuit homo missus a Deo, GUI nomen 
 erat Joannes / there were some in the king's council, 
 who dared even to propose whether it were advisable to 
 have his head cut off. Even Philip himself was ashamed 
 of the impudent cowardice of his counsellors ; a greater 
 cowardice than he himself would have wished. Don John 
 escaped with his life, but humiliated by the undeserved 
 rebuke, grief and indignation now oppress him ; and 
 this was Spanish envy ! What benefit did the Christians 
 derive from so many dead, so much valor, and such a 
 wonderful victory ? Nothing, but fame. O glory, inebria- 
 tion of great souls, how you fall from estimation and desire, 
 when you are made the tool of kings, cool calculators of 
 noble passions ! Every one thinks of himself, and for to- 
 day ; for the morrow he neither knows nor cares. Venice
 
 Death. 313 
 
 on the sea, Poland on the land, remain abandoned like 
 two lost bulwarks against the forces of the enemies of 
 Faith. One day (may God avert the omen) these bulwarks 
 conquered, the Christians will awake at the cries of the 
 plundered fields, at the flames of the burning cities ; 
 if God does not help us, in twenty years we shall be all 
 Moslems." 
 
 Here the Duke ended his long narrative, and from 
 around the room there rose a murmur of applause and at 
 the same time of dread ; and after the company had tarried 
 for some time in pleasant conversation, the hour being 
 already late, they rose from the table. The Duke dismissed 
 them with agreeable and courteous manner, begging them 
 to be ready on the morrow for the hunt, before the Sun 
 should be too warm. He himself, offering his arm to his 
 wife, accompanied her to the foot of the stairs, where, 
 kissing her hand, with many wishes for a very good night, 
 he withdrew. 
 
 Every one retired to his own apartment, and in expect- 
 ation of a merry time for the morrow, went to rest. 
 
 In less than half an hour all seemed to be wrapt in 
 sleep. It seemed only ! The Duke of Bracciano watched. 
 Coming into his chamber he threw himself upon a seat, 
 leaning his head on one hand, the other hanging down. 
 He was pale and changed, yet did not utter a word : 
 two beautiful white hounds with scarlet collars marked 
 with gold about their necks, accustomed to receive his 
 caresses, lay at his feet gazing at him, and as if to draw 
 the attention of their master softly licked his hands. It 
 
 14
 
 314 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 would seem as if a fierce contest betwixt would and would 
 not was raging in the Duke's soul, and that having 
 examined everything, discussed- the benefit or injury 
 resulting from it, weighing all reasons for good or bad, 
 or all those that seemed so to him, and the insult, the 
 revenge, and the forgiveness, one might clearly discern 
 to what conclusion he had at last arrived, when these 
 words escaped from his lips : " It is a thing that must be 
 done !" Then added quickly : 
 
 "Titta!" 
 
 " My Lord." 
 
 Duke Bracciano hissed from his mouth : 
 
 " Have you prepared everything ?" 
 
 " I have." 
 
 A wearisome silence succeeded : the Duke first broke 
 it saying: 
 
 "Titta!" 
 
 "My Lord." 
 
 " Ah ! it would have been better to have died in the 
 battle of Lepanto." 
 
 " It would." 
 
 " Tell me, is not my wife a handsome woman ? Is she 
 not graceful, elegant, endowed with all the gracious 
 manners of noble birth ?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord, yes." 
 
 " And would it not seem sacrilege to extinguish in a 
 moment with one treacherous blow so much beauty and 
 genius ?" 
 
 " It would have been better, my Lord, to have died in 
 the battle of Lepanto !" 
 
 The Duke arose, wiping the perspiration dripping 
 from his brow; he walked the room restlessly: then
 
 Death. 
 
 suddenly stopping, and fixing his eyes on Titta, 
 said: 
 
 " Do you not know better than to express wishes for 
 things impossible to happen ? Have you no better advice 
 than this for me ? Nothing, nothing. Are you a man, or 
 only the echo of a cave ?" 
 
 " Did you not say, it must be done f How can you 
 expect servants to advise, when they know that the 
 master would hold their advices as a resistance to his 
 own desires ?" 
 
 " Titta, you are right ; with me you always have the 
 grave offence of being in the right. . . Is all that I ordered 
 ready ? . . ." 
 
 " Everything . . . you may see for yourself, ... by look- 
 ing up. . ." 
 
 " It is all right ... no matter ... I trust you. . ." And 
 instead of raising his eyes he fixed them on the floor. 
 " Now take these two hounds, and go as silently as you 
 can to the room of the Duchess ; knock softly . . . and say 
 to her . . ." and he whispered in his ear. Titta nodded 
 assent. The Duke then said in his usual voice : 
 
 " Using courteous words ; in a pleasant manner. Do 
 you understand ? . . . Go now. . ." 
 
 But as Titta made some delay, he repeated : 
 
 " Go ! . . 
 
 Titta took the hounds, but before he crossed the 
 threshold of the door he stopped, and turning towards 
 the Duke, said slowly : 
 
 " Must I go, my Lord ?" 
 
 " Go ... go ... It must be done /" 
 
 And Titta went. He ascended the staircase soft- 
 ly, and approached the room of the Duchess, and
 
 316 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 scarcely had he knocked, before a voice from within 
 called: 
 
 " Who is there ?" 
 
 " I come by the Duke's order, my Lady, to beg you to 
 accept these two hounds that he sends you as a present, 
 hoping you for his sake will hold them dear ; and desires 
 also that to-morrow you will observe in the chase if they 
 are active and fleet ; he also prays you to come to him 
 for a short tune, wishing to see you, after so many years 
 of absence, without witnesses." 
 
 Titta, on entering, saw the Duchess with the Lady 
 Lucrezia Frescobaldi kneeling before an image of the 
 Blessed Virgin, reading prayers from a Missal ; and he 
 said to himself: "Better thus, she is provided with 
 sacrament for the great journey." 
 
 Isabella stood up, and said to Lucrezia : 
 
 " Should T, or should I not, go to sleep with my hus- 
 band? What say you /*" 
 
 Lady Frescobaldi, shrugging her shoulders, replied : 
 
 " Do whatever you wish / he is your husband still."* 
 
 " I will go then." 
 
 The poor Duchess descended slowly, but without 
 trembling. 
 
 Lady Lucrezia, moved by curiosity, or compassion, or 
 rather by both, stirred from her usual impassibility, 
 decided to follow her unobserved in the distance. 
 Scarcely did she see her enter her husband's room, ere 
 she hastened her steps, and placed her ear at the door. 
 
 She heard merry greetings and cheerful salutations. 
 
 * Those were the very words spoken by Isabella to Lucrezia, as tho 
 records of the time report them precisely.
 
 Death. 317 
 
 " God be thanked, it begins well," she murmured. 
 
 Then listened again, and heard a sound of laughter, 
 and kisses given and returned. 
 
 " Better and better. . . 
 
 And holding her breath, she still listened eagerly. 
 But we will say no more, only repeat with the Poet : 
 
 The modest Muse forbears to speak 
 Of close embrace and flashing cheek, 
 
 And kisses warm, and words of love ; 
 The strings though struck, no sounds return, 
 Responsive to the stars that burn, 
 
 The stars that in conjunctions move; 
 But to themselves they murmur low 
 The secret words that none may know, 
 
 Which * 
 
 Lady Lucrezia returned on tip-toe to her own room, 
 saying to herself: "I think that there will be no storm 
 in the house after all, or if there should be one, we will 
 see it terminate with some lightning perhaps, but without 
 thunderbolt." 
 
 ********* 
 
 Half an hour, or a little more, had passed, from the 
 time in which Lady Lucrezia left the door of the Duke, 
 when it opened, and Titta came out, crossing the hall 
 which led to the door of Troilo's apartment, and arriving 
 
 * Gli abbracciamenti, i baci, e i colpi lieti, 
 Tace la casta Musa vergognosa, 
 E dalla congiunzion di quei pianeti 
 Ritorce il plettro, e di cantar non osa. 
 Sol mormora tra se detti secreti, 
 Che . TASSONI.
 
 318 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 there, knocked with his knuckles upon it, without much 
 caution. 
 
 Troilo, although there seemed to be no cause for fear, 
 yet either on account of the unusual excitement, the 
 warmth of the day, or from too much drinking, his blood 
 had become so heated, that, tossing about the bed, he 
 could not sleep. Therefore hearing the knock he jumped 
 out of bed, and opened the door. 
 
 "What is it, Titta?" 
 
 " Sir Troilo, my Lord the Duke ordered me to say to 
 you, that he has not been able to sleep. . ." 
 
 " Just my case ! . . ." 
 
 "So much the better; therefore he begs to know 
 whether you would not like to keep him company a little 
 while, and have a little chat ... to cheer each other. . ." 
 
 " Exactly what I should like ! Wait till I dress, and I 
 will go with you." 
 
 And putting on what garments first came to his hands, 
 he was soon ready. Titta preceded him with a lighted 
 taper, but when they arrived at the Duke's door, drawing 
 aside, and bending low, he said respectfully : 
 
 " Walk in, your Excellency !" 
 
 Troilo having entered, Titta shut the door, and locked 
 it, putting the key in his pocket ; and when the former had 
 entered the next room, he carefully closed that door also, 
 remaining outside. 
 
 Troilo on entering the room saw the Duke sitting beside 
 a table near the bed, and, whether it was fancy, or the 
 effect of the light, he thought he seemed as if grown ten 
 years older since an hour ago. The Duke, without lifting 
 his eyes, said : 
 
 " Troilo, sit down."
 
 Death. 319 
 
 This voice does not contain a threat, it has nothing of 
 rancor hi it, it is peaceful and low, and yet it does not 
 seem to issue from the lips; uttered thus from the 
 inmost depth of the heart as from the bottom of a 
 sepulchre, it had the power of infusing a chill through 
 the frame of Troilo. 
 
 And Troilo sat down. 
 
 " Troilo, I have words to say which it behooves me 
 to speak, and you to listen to them in the shadows of 
 darkness ; . . . in the mysterious silence of night . . . 
 Troilo, after three long years of absence I return home. . . 
 But is this to which I have returned my home ? Can I 
 sleep safely in it? Can I sit without suspicion at my own 
 table ? . . ." 
 
 Troilo, thus taken by surprise, was silent. 
 
 " Troilo ! When I departed from home, knowing that 
 the woman who was my wife . . . who is my wife, was 
 changeable in her fancy, of manners more free and loose 
 than becomes a haughty lady, the fault perhaps of her 
 education . . . ready to pass all limits . . . somewhat petu- 
 lant and obstinate ... I hated to confide the treasure of 
 my honor to, I will not say unfaithful, but certainly 
 dangerous hands. In whom could I better trust than 
 my own blood ? I therefore chose you, I intrusted to 
 you my honor, which is also yours, and begged you with 
 tears in my eyes to keep a good and vigilant watch over 
 it. ... Do you remember it, Troilo ? Is it not true ? 
 Would you deny it? ... And even if you would, could 
 you ? 
 
 " It is true." 
 
 " And do you remember the promises which you made 
 then ? Have you always remembered them ? Now tell
 
 320 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 me: how have you kept your loyal watch over my 
 wife?" 
 
 The Duke kept his arm with closed hand stretched 
 upon the table ; the muscles of his forehead were hor- 
 ribly swollen, his eyebrows frowning, and his eyes 
 sparkled under them through the ruffled hair like fire 
 burning in the midst of a thorn bush. Troilo still kept 
 silent ; and the Duke said again : 
 
 "How have you kept your loyal watch over my 
 wife?" 
 
 As there was no reply, he continued : 
 
 " If I listen to the reports which reached me even in 
 Rome, indeed my reputation is lost without remedy; 
 my house is full of shame : henceforth I cannot hear the 
 name of my wife spoken without suspecting that it is 
 done through insult or mockery. Virginio will not be 
 able to hear his mother's name without bowing his face 
 for shame. We heard shameful things, cousin, and such 
 at which nature itself would be horrified . . . such that 
 no man could possibly bear, and which I neither can, 
 nor know, nor wish, by any means to suffer." 
 
 " My Lord !" . . . replied Troilo with faltering voice ; 
 " could a knight like you, gifted with the best discern- 
 ment, as all know . . . experienced in the world . . . give 
 credit to such false accusations ... to the words of idle 
 and malicious men? The people generally repute ua 
 happy, and those whom envy gnaws love to hurl poisoned 
 arrows at us. Let us make them weep, they say ; thus 
 they will be our equals in tears at last." 
 
 " You speak truly ; but the shameful report was con- 
 firmed by such a person that now I can no longer doubt 
 it."
 
 Death. 321 
 
 " And do you believe it worthy of faith ?" 
 
 " I leave you to judge. Isabella herself confessed it 
 to me." 
 
 "What! Isabella?" 
 
 " Isabella." 
 
 " Your wife ? 
 
 " She herself . . . my wife. Now tell me, Troilo, . . . 
 is not your name Orsini ? Is not the blood which runs 
 in your veins of the same race as mine ? Answer !" 
 
 "Why reply to what you know yourself?" 
 
 " Because it behooves me at this solemn moment to 
 hear it from your own lips, and be assured that you 
 remember it, that you feel convinced of it. ... Here I 
 find myself surrounded by traitors, for with the excep- 
 tion of my own relatives ... I dare not hope to escape 
 being betrayed. You are then of my blood ? . . . Now 
 give me advice . . . Isabella ! . . . must I forgive, or kill 
 her ?" . . . 
 
 " And shall I advise you ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But neither I nor any one else can believe me capa- 
 ble of that. You have more wisdom than I." 
 
 " I do not think so ; and even were it so, do you not 
 know that in such occasions man loses his wisdom ? Come, 
 I command you to advise me." 
 
 " And then . . . consider, Giordano, how merciful is 
 the Lord . . . and how mild and clement appear those 
 famous men who resemble Him . . . Let the weakness of 
 nature, the age of the woman, the bad examples among 
 which she was educated, obtain mercy in your eyes ; . . . 
 recall to your mind what you said to me a little while 
 ago of her changeable mind, her poetic imagination, the 
 14*
 
 322 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 time, the place, the occasion ; and even . . . fate, Gior- 
 dano, since we are all governed by an unconquerable 
 fate and use mercy . . . Isabella can no longer present 
 herself before you in her innocence, you can never love 
 her again . . . and perhaps not even esteem her . . . and 
 yet there remains a consolation to the injured one, bitter, 
 it is true, but yet desirable, that is, to feel himself unde- 
 serving of the insult, and to see the offender truly 
 repentant." 
 
 " You see that you do not want wisdom ! You cer- 
 tainly do not lack eloquence ! . . . And I thought so ! In 
 truth I would follow your advice, but one idea keeps me 
 from it, which is this : in such an affair is my honor only 
 at stake ? Ought we not to consider the honor of the 
 family as an entail, which I am not allowed to alienate, 
 and not even diminish, but which I must restore to my 
 children as pure and intact as I received it from my 
 ancestors ? Doing otherwise, does it not seem to you 
 that some day I may hear my ancestors say to me : 
 what have you done with our patrimony ? and my chil- 
 dren : This is not our inheritance ?" 
 
 " For my own part I believe that it is noble to seek and 
 accomplish a difficult revenge ; but it seems to me also a 
 proof of a generous soul to relinquish the revenge that 
 can be executed by merely wishing it. To conquer others 
 is a praiseworthy thing, but to conquer one's own passions 
 is manly and divine." 
 
 " And for this reason too would I be almost willing to 
 pardon her ; . . . only that another motive distresses me, 
 and closes my heart to mercy ; and it is the refusal of 
 my wife to reveal the name of her seducer." 
 
 " And do you not know it ?"
 
 Death. 323 
 
 " No. . . Do you ? 
 
 "I? No." 
 
 " So I thought, for you had other things in your mind 
 than watching my wife ; and you have committed a great 
 wrong against me and my house, Troilo, a wrong which 
 I know not how to forgive you. But perhaps the fault 
 was not entirely on your side, it was rather in a great 
 measure my own, for I, knowing you to be young, desirous 
 of glory, and of a noble heart, should have allowed you 
 to attend to other things, rather than be the eunuch of a 
 palace." 
 
 " And does she then refuse to reveal the name ?" 
 
 " Neither by prayer, nor threat, nor hope of pardon 
 was I able to induce her to reveal it." 
 
 " Indeed this is a grave fault. . . And you tried all 
 means to make her speak ?" 
 
 "All." 
 
 " There, you see then how difficult it is to give advice 
 when one is ignorant of all the particulars : if I had 
 known her obstinacy in this particular before, I would 
 have advised you differently." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 " Rather the contrary." 
 
 " You agree with me then ! I am inevitably forced to 
 use severity : would that I knew at least the man who did 
 not scruple to contaminate my house while I was shedding 
 my blood for the Faith . . . the man whom neither the 
 respect due to my house . . . nay, more than that, the fear 
 of my sword did not deter from this abominable crime ! 
 Ah ! I would think myself less unhappy if I could 
 plunge my hands in his blood, and tear forth his heart. . . 
 And, believe me, Troilo, I would do it, as true as there is
 
 324 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 a God . . . but the coward hides himself. . . Oh, who art 
 thou, who wounded me so mortally, and did not take 
 my life? What is thy name? Show thyself! Alas! 
 how painful is the offence done by an obscure, abject, 
 and unknown person, against whom we cannot revenge 
 ourselves, or revenging we may be more stained by the 
 revenge itself than by the insult." 
 
 "Indeed such offences deserve an atonement of blood." 
 
 "But since I cannot shed that of the hated seducer . . . 
 what think you ?" 
 
 " It seems to me . . ." 
 
 " No ... no faltering," said the Duke rising to his feet ; 
 " here it is necessary that you should reveal to me your 
 whole mind." 
 
 "Then. . .' 
 
 " Then ? . . . Why do you hesitate ? Here no one can 
 overhear us ... no one." 
 
 "Then . . . the jealous honor of the family requires that 
 . . . that Isabella should disappear from the world." 
 
 "It is well," replied the Duke ; and stretching his hand 
 to the curtains of the bed, he drew them aside, adding : 
 " Behold ... I have done it." 
 
 " Vengeance of God !" cried Troilo, rising and stagger- 
 ing back two or three steps with his hands in his hair. 
 
 She who had been Isabella Orsini reclined on the bed 
 in a sitting posture: her hair loose and dishevelled, 
 her arms stretched out, her face black, her eyes open, 
 intent, and almost bursting from their sockets ... a line 
 rope yet girded her delicate neck, the ends of which were 
 lost in the darkness of the room, and fastened in the 
 ceiling. 
 
 Miserable spectacle of crime and perfidy !
 
 Death. 325 
 
 " Thus perished Isabella dei Medici, who would have 
 made herself and others happy, if heaven had granted 
 to her either less beauty, or greater virtue, or better 
 parents."* 
 
 The Duke, also as pale as death, repressing with violent 
 effort the passion which agitated his soul, stood immov- 
 able in his place where with one hand holding the curtains 
 back, and stretching the other towards his cousin, he 
 thus spoke : 
 
 " Xow my bed has become deserted . . . for every 
 woman will fear that it will be turned into a scaffold ; 
 my house is deserted, for the father cannot live with the 
 son whose mother he has strangled. . . Days of sorrow 
 and infamy, sleepless nights, filled with remorse and 
 fear, bitter death . . . terrible judgement of God, 
 behold the peace which thou hast given me, Troilo ! 
 Thou, and no one else ! I know thee . . . fully . . . 
 iniquitous and abject man . . . and I feel and know that 
 death must have been less bitter to this woman, who 
 was my wife, than the knowledge of having lost the 
 dignity of a Princess, of a wife and of a mother ... for so 
 miserable and degraded a creature as thou art. "Wretch ! 
 The secret died not with thy accomplice ... no ... nor 
 with her murder did I lose the trace of the traitor. 
 Now it is for thee to die. I could and should abstain 
 from taking thy miserable soul from thy body with this 
 honorable hand of a knight ; a villain is enough for a 
 villain ; but as thou wilt suffer a deserved death, I do 
 not wish that thou shouldst complain of the manner of 
 it, if we ever meet again in the next world." 
 
 * BOTTA, History of Italy, book XIV.
 
 326 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Thus saying, he took two drawn swords, that lay at 
 the feet of the corpse, and throwing one of them on the 
 ground towards Troilo, added : 
 
 " Take it up, and defend thyself; and since thou hast 
 lived as a traitor, die at least as a gentleman." 
 
 Like a bow bent by a strong hand, that snapping 
 the cord straightens violently, thus Troilo starting up, as 
 if possessed by a demon, gave a leap towards the open 
 window behind him, leaned with both hands upon the 
 seat, and with one leap jumped out of it. As fortune 
 willed, although he fell on his head, he received no injury, 
 on account of the window not being high from the ground. 
 Starting again upon his feet, he rushed precipitately down 
 the staircase. 
 
 The Duke, seeing this act, with no less fury rushed 
 after him through the window, sword in hand. 
 
 Not a word not a threat there was only heard the 
 sound of hurried steps upon the stairs. 
 
 Troilo, losing breath, and out of practice in violent 
 exercises, would have easily been overtaken by the Duke, 
 had not the latter, stumbling against a projecting step, 
 fallen headlong down the marble stairs, and bruised 
 himself badly. The sword escaped from his hand, and 
 falling down from step to step, broke the silence of the 
 night with a dreadful clatter, and glided far away into 
 the public road. 
 
 Not only was the Duke unable to pursue Troilo further, 
 but he could hardly raise himself again ; yet leaning his 
 body upon his elbows fixed in the ground, he turned his 
 head to where Troilo was fast disappearing, and sent after 
 him through the darkness of the night this dreadful 
 menace :
 
 Death. 327 
 
 " Since thou hast not desired to die like a knight, many 
 months will not pass before thou shalt die like a dog !" 
 
 Titta rushed to the aid of his master : lifted him up, 
 and with loving care washed and bandaged his bruises ; 
 then placed him, raving feverishly, upon a bed in the 
 antechamber. 
 
 He went afterwards to Lady Lucrezia, who, overcome 
 by the dreadful event, much more so to her as not expected, 
 remained insensible for more than an hour ; and as long as 
 she lived never recovered from the shock, nor was she ever 
 seen to smile or rejoice again. Having returned to her 
 senses, Titta placed himself before her, and with his right 
 forefinger pointing in the middle of his eye-brows, prof- 
 fered very slowly the following words : 
 
 " Lady ! . . . Listen attentively ! . . . Our Lady the 
 Duchess died suddenly ... of apoplexy . . . whilst she 
 was washing her head with cold water, ... by which 
 accident . . . she fell into your arms . . . and died before 
 we had time to call for any help. . . Be careful, Lady, 
 of mistaking, as you love your life ! . . . The notices to 
 be given, of her death, to the several Courts already 
 prepared since yesterday say exactly this. Be then on 
 your guard. . ."* 
 
 Titta then removed the body to the apartment belong- 
 ing to the Duchess, and arranged it upon the bed. Lady 
 Lucrezia send for Inigo, and told him word for word 
 what Titta had said. The majordomo glancing at the 
 corpse, understood the case too well, and taking with 
 
 * The notices given to the Courts of Europe contained these words ; 
 " that this unhappy Lady, while washing her head with cold water, 
 struck by apoplexy, fell into the arms of her attendants, and died 
 before any assistance could be given her." GALLCZZI'S History.
 
 328 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 his left hand the hem of the sheet, covered its blackened 
 face, whilst with his right he wiped a tear from his eyes. 
 Inigo, the majordomo, reputed a heart of stone, 
 wept! 
 
 " May God receive in peace the soul of this poor Lady !" 
 said he, and with a deep sigh he left the room. 
 
 A great and solemn funeral was performed over the 
 body of Isabella : servants, relatives her husband and 
 brothers, put on mourning. Over the bier was recited 
 a funeral oration, composed by an academician of the 
 Crusca, in classic Tuscan language. 
 
 The price of her blood was, in part payment, and in 
 part arrangement of the Duke's debts, and this is narrated 
 by Galluzzi.* 
 
 Settimanni also informs us that the Duke of Bracciano 
 obtained from the munificence of his brother-in-law even 
 a greater reward in the following October, which was 
 the donation of the estate of Poggio a HaronceZli, to- 
 day called Poggio Jmperiale. f 
 
 But God's judgment rewarded to the Duke according 
 to his deserts. He died a horrible death ; his soul was 
 contaminated with new crimes, for blood calls for blood, 
 as it is with wine ; and that judgment was entailed, so 
 that his descendants also feared it. And if fortune will 
 
 * " Not only did the Grand-Duke and the Cardinal keep their good 
 relationship with Orsini, but also interested themselves in appeasing 
 his creditors, and gave some system to his embarrassed economy. 
 All this would prove that, either the death of Donna Isabella was 
 not violent, or that the Grand-Duke and his brothers, being in the 
 secret with Orsini, with their dissimulation rendered the crime more 
 detestable." 
 
 f Settimanni. MSS. Chronicle.
 
 Death. 329 
 
 grant us time and health, the subsequent history of the 
 life of the Duke of Bracciano shall form the subject of 
 another narrative. 
 
 The following passage from the History of Galluzzi will 
 inform the reader of the fate of Troilo Orsini. 
 
 " The Grand-Duke, determined, however, to sound the 
 opinions of Queen Catherine, sent his Secretary to that 
 Court under the pretext of collecting the balance of the 
 money which he had loaned to king Charles IX., for it 
 was then due. The Secretary's commission extended no 
 further, but liberty had also been given him, to reproach, 
 according to the occasion, the Queen's ill will against the 
 Medici house, and the injury done the Grand-Duke. The 
 Secretary having arrived in Paris, and delivered his 
 commission, the Queen said to him : I know not how 
 to satisfy this desire of the Grand-Duke, for he lends 
 to the King of Spain a million of gold at a time, and 
 with us he even demands back such a little sum. The 
 Secretary remonstrated that if the King of Spain had 
 been helped with large sums, he had at least shown more 
 esteem for the Grand-Duke than she had done, for she 
 had ill-treated him, and done him an injury which he 
 did not deserve. This I confess, said she, and I did it 
 because the Grand-Duke ha# no respect for me, rather 
 with much grief to myself and to the King he has caused 
 the assassination under our own eyes, of Troilo Orsini, 
 and others, which is not right, this Kingdom being free 
 to any one to reside here. The Secretary replied, that 
 Orsiui and others, having been guilty of grave offences 
 against the Grand-Duke, it was not becoming in her, 
 who was of his own blood, to protect, and aid them with 
 money. Enough, replied the Queen, write to the Grand-
 
 330 Isabella Orsini. 
 
 Duke not to continue thus any longer, and particularly 
 not to order any assassination to be committed in this 
 Kingdom, for the King, my son, will not allow it." 
 
 THE END.
 
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 NOTHING TO SAY. 
 
 A Satire in Verse, which has " Nothing to Do " with 
 "Nothing to Wear." By DOESTICKS, P. B. With 
 Illustrations by McLenan. Muslin, price 50 cents. 
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 
 
 A very charming Novel, containing the very elements ot 
 success. Written by Mrs. JULIET H. L. CAMPBELL. 
 Handsomely bound in muslin, izmo., price $i oo. 
 
 LIFE OF SPENCER H. CONE. 
 
 Being Memoirs of the late Pastor of the First Baptist 
 Church in the city of New York. Prepared by hii 
 Sons. Steel Portrait. Muslin, price $i 25.
 
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